


Abraca-Fuck-You!

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Adara Birthday Celebration [30]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alpha Derek, Alpha Derek Hale, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, BAMF Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek Comes Back, Derek Hale Leaves, Derek Hale Leaves Beacon Hills, Derek Hale Leaves the Pack, Derek Hale Returns, Don’t copy to another site, Druid Stiles Stilinski, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Emissary in Training Stiles Stilinski, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Derek Hale, Full Shift Werewolves, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hurt Derek, Hurt Derek Hale, Hurt/Comfort, I think that's enough tags!, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, Injured Derek Hale, Injured/Wounded, M/M, Magic, Magic Stiles Stilinski, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Panic Attacks, Physical Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Sorcerer Stiles Stilinski, Spells & Enchantments, Stiles Comes Back, Stiles Stilinski Leaves, Stiles Stilinski Leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles Stilinski Leaves the Pack, Stiles Stilinski Returns, Torture, Tortured Derek Hale, Werewolf Mates, Wolf Derek Hale, emotional torture, temporary deafness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 15:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17246420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: “Who needed you?” Stiles asked, uncapping his water.“Hm?” Cole had been looking out at something in the field, and he focussed back on Stiles then. “What?”“You said it comes about when someone needs us. Who needed you?”He probably shouldn’t have asked, because Cole looked sad all of a sudden. Like he hadn’t thought about becoming a Sorcerer in a long time. Stiles could see that being what he was had cost him greatly, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to run into the same problem.“A friend,” Cole said quietly. “Someone who was very dear to me. But I didn’t get there fast enough.”Stiles paused in recapping his water, pressing his lips together. “What happened?”“I waited too long to help them.”





	Abraca-Fuck-You!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/gifts).



> Happy Birthday [Adara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/pseuds/adara)!!!
> 
> I wonder which prompt was my favourite, because it DEFINITELY wasn't this 28k monster, what?
> 
> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis

Stiles was actually super pissed off at _Harry Potter_. Because it gave him extremely unrealistic expectations of magic. Like, magic would be subtle little things, like accidentally disappearing a piece of glass in a zoo, or blowing an aunt up like a balloon, or even disappearing with every part of your body except half an eyebrow.

It was subtle. It was just something someone got eased into. Weird little things happening that made people think, “Hm, this is weird.” And Harry got a fucking dope ass half-Giant sweetheart showing up to save him from his abusive family telling him he was a Wizard and that he got to go to Wizard school and he got to ride a train, and learn Quidditch, and have a jolly good time.

Stiles was pissed, because he found out he had magic in him when he was sleeping in his old room at his dad’s place in Beacon Hills, sneezed, and blew half the roof off the fucking house. Literally, the roof just exploded like someone had set off a bomb. His dad had been panicking his ass off getting to Stiles’ room because he thought someone was after him and was convinced he was about to find his son dead.

Instead, he just found Stiles sitting up in bed with snot leaking from his nose staring incredulously at the destroyed ceiling above him, covered in bits of wood, dust, and other various household materials.

Needless to say, he’d instantly called Deaton. And instead of a fun half-Giant coming to tell him he got to go to Wizard school, he got a mysterious Druid vet telling him he was magic and good luck finding a teacher.

Because apparently he was ‘special’ magic. Scott joked it was special ed magic, but that joke didn’t last long when virtually every little thing Stiles did was causing property damage. Like the time he’d walked into the hospital to drop off Melissa’s lunch since Scott couldn’t make it, and he’d brushed up against something staticky. The whole building went on the fritz and the power went out. Stiles booked it out of there before he affected the backup generator.

Of course, because of all this random ass bullshit, he had to leave his internship at the FBI, which he was supremely pissed about, but it wasn’t like he was in any condition to go back there. What was he supposed to say? “Sorry about melting the gun you gave me to practice shooting with, my hands heated to over a thousand degrees and turned it into tar”? He didn’t think that was going to fly.

But Deaton had already told him he couldn’t help him. Deaton was a Druid, they worked off ingredients and nature magic and bullshit. Stiles was something else. Something more powerful. Deaton called him a Sorcerer. Stiles felt Wizard was cooler, but apparently there was a difference between the two. Wizards, for one, used wands, and Stiles didn’t need a wand.

Sorcerers tended to come into being during times of great need, which of course was a terrible thing to be told, because now Stiles knew something awful was about to happen and he was going to make or break the human race, at this point.

No pressure. Awesome.

Deaton was happy though, because it confirmed that Stiles _did_ have an affinity for magic and he could start training him to be the successor Emissary for the McCall pack. Which would’ve been awesome and fine if Stiles wasn’t thinking about that _at all_ because he still couldn’t walk to the grocery store without setting off all the car alarms and exploding half the milk aisle!

Thankfully, after almost three weeks of this garbage nonsense magic _bullshit_ , Chris Argent came to his rescue. Stiles knew he loved that guy, Chris was like an older, wiser, less cryptic version of Deaton. He was great.

Chris knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew another guy, who apparently had some intel on a potential Sorcerer who could teach Stiles. A bit of a stretch, but better than Stiles’ current plan, which was build himself a bunker and never see the light of day again.

So, he and Chris Argent went off to see this guy that a guy knew through another guy’s guy friend or whatever. His dad wanted to come with him, but with the way things were going, it was much better that an experienced Hunter go with him, particularly since Chris seemed good at dodging Stiles’ magic while they were in close quarters.

Which was comforting, because he’d have hated to accidentally blow Chris up like a balloon a-la- _Harry_ - _Potter_.

It took them almost four days to find this magical Sorcerer friend of a friend of another friend, but they eventually did and he took one look at them and told them to scram. Chris argued with him for almost an hour, but the guy wouldn’t budge, and it wasn’t until Stiles let out an annoyed sound and rolled his eyes, which caused a huge _crack_  to form in the foundation of the guy’s house, that he started looking at him with interest.

Apparently Sorcerers weren’t very common, and most of them were so weak that they weren’t worth being taught anything. But Stiles was different, because of course he was. Stiles’ entire life was like a God damn TV show, and it would be a pretty boring show if he wasn’t the unluckiest person in existence!

So Stiles got to live with Mr. Picky-Pants, who was actually an okay dude once you were worth his time, named Cole Harper. Being trained in magic by Cole was like being taught by a meaner, less enthusiastic Horace Slughorn who was just interested in collecting what was undoubtedly the most powerful Sorcerer in this day and age.

Stiles would’ve _much_  preferred a McGonagall. At least he wouldn’t have felt like a piece of meat.

He was so pissed Hogwarts wasn’t real.

* * *

“That’s enough for now, let’s take a break.”

Stiles felt like he would’ve taken a break on his own if Cole hadn’t allowed it, because he was dead on his feet and probably would’ve passed out. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, his hair was sticking to his forehead, and he was breathing so hard he was actually worried he might accidentally blow Cole’s house down.

He turned to stumble unsteadily back towards the man sitting on the back porch, and fell onto the bottom step, holding his hands out so that Cole could slap magic suppressors on both wrists.

Apparently magic suppressors weren’t a thing until Stiles came along, and then Cole had been _forced_  to create them to avoid Stiles continuously destroying parts of his house. Cole didn’t seem to mind the destruction so much, but it took a lot of magic to fix the problems and Cole didn’t seem to have as much of a reserve as Stiles did.

Stiles brought the bottom of his damp shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face, and felt something tapping on his shoulder. He turned, and saw Cole holding out a water bottle. He took it with a nod of thanks, uncapped it, and drank almost the entire thing down.

“It gets easier,” Cole promised, handing over a protein bar once Stiles had recapped the water bottle. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you’re improving, bit by bit.”

“Is it supposed to take this long?” Stiles demanded, taking the bar and shoving half of it into his mouth. If nothing else, at least he got to eat more now that he had all this magic inside him. Magic required a fuel source, and luckily enough, that fuel was food. Stiles could eat as much as he wanted without worrying about gaining weight, so that was a plus.

“You have a lot of it,” Cole said, a little evasively. “I imagine we’re going to be working together for a good, long while.”

“Awesome,” Stiles muttered. Not that he minded living with Cole, but he literally did nothing but train. He didn’t get weekends or anything, he just woke up, had breakfast, trained, had lunch, trained, had dinner, trained, showered, went to bed, and repeat. It was exhausting, and every night when he went to sleep, he was positive he’d be too exhausted to train the next morning, but he’d wake up energized and go out and train.

It had been like this for the past three months. Stiles never saw Cole working, he just sat on the back porch watching Stiles, which made him wonder how he made a living. Surely he had to work somehow, right?

“How long can I stay here?” Stiles asked, figuring he should at least be respectful of Cole’s finances.

“As long as you need to.”

“What about, you know—are you gonna be okay? Financially?”

Cole laughed at that, which Stiles found a little uncalled for, but didn’t comment on it. He shook his head and looked out into his backyard.

Well, field, more like. Cole lived on a huge piece of farmland. He didn’t do anything with it, but Stiles assumed he had it for privacy, since it allowed him to do virtually anything he wanted without _normal_  people seeing him. Worked out for Stiles, considering all the shit he’d been doing the past few weeks.

“You don’t need to worry about me, kid.” He patted Stiles’ shoulder. “People like us don’t have to worry about money.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked slowly, his half-eaten bar hovering near his face.

“Sorcerers are in high demand. Hunters want us, Packs want us, hell even the bad guys want us. If you’re freelance, you can charge whatever you want. I make a pretty penny doing anything they ask.”

Stiles frowned. “Like what?”

Cole shrugged. “It varies. Tracking spells, holding spells, antidotes, weapons.”

“For both sides?”

“You’re gonna learn real quick that you can’t take sides as a Sorcerer, kid. You want money, you gotta learn to play the field. Hunter comes to you asking for a new kind of wolfsbane to take down a hybrid Werewolf, you make it for him. Then you call the Werewolf and offer him an antidote for double the price.”

Stiles scoffed, finding that to be a terrible way to live. He wasn’t planning on using this magic, if he could help it. Or if he did, it would only be to help people. He wasn’t going to use it to help one side defeat the other, and then charge the other side double for a countermeasure. He supposed that was just how some people thought. With their wallets instead of their hearts.

“When did you become a Sorcerer?” He and Cole didn’t really talk much. Usually it was all training, and Stiles was too exhausted during meals to speak, let alone ask any questions. But as tired as he was today, he felt... okay. Like he was slowly getting the hang of this whole magic thing.

Not the spells, _God_  no, but at least now that he’d had some water and half a protein bar, he felt like he might survive the rest of the day. An improvement from usual.

“I was about your age,” Cole said, uncapping his own bottle of water and taking a sip. “About twenty-seven.”

Stiles was only twenty-three, but he supposed it was close enough. Cole looked to be in his late-fifties now, so he’d probably been a Sorcerer longer than he’d been a human. _He_  didn’t blow half the roof off the house when he sneezed.

“How does it happen? Like, was it sudden for you, too?”

“It’s sudden for all of us,” Cole said, offering Stiles a small smile. “I might not have sneezed the roof off my house, but I did blow a stall door off its hinges when I exhaled a little too sharply taking a shit.”

“Nice,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. Cole just laughed.

“Point is, no one has any control over when it happens. If it’s time, it’s time.”

“But why now?” Stiles asked. “I’m twenty-three, and you were twenty-seven. Why did my body suddenly decide that now was a good time for it to be all magical?”

Cole eyed him for a few seconds, playing with the cap of his water bottle before finally setting it down, turning to watch what he was doing before replying. “Someone needs you.”

Stiles frowned. “Someone _always_  needs me. I mean, if I’ve had this potential inside me all this time, how come it only came out now? Why didn’t it come out when my mom was dying? Or when my friend got turned into a Werewolf? Or when my dad was kidnapped and being used as a sacrifice?”

“Different kind of magic,” Cole explained. “We can’t heal things like what happened to your mom, kid. As for the other stuff, it’s possible it would’ve manifested sooner _if_  the situation had become dire enough. It must not have.”

“I got possessed and killed my best friend’s first love,” Stiles said dryly. “Would’ve come in handy then.”

“Would it?” Cole raised his eyebrows. “You just said you were possessed. Do you really think being an all-powerful new Sorcerer while possessed would’ve done anyone any good? I think it would’ve had the opposite effect.”

Fair point, Stiles should’ve considered that. He supposed he was just bitter, because now that he _had_  this magic, while he still couldn’t really use it, it pissed him off that him lying in bed during a break from his FBI training constituted someone needing him. Like he’d said, people needed him all the time, why was _this_  time any different?

Cole was still eying him, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle. Stiles didn’t like being stared at like a problem that needed solving, so he just looked back out at the field, taking another bite of what was left of the protein bar.

“You’re in a pack, right?” Cole asked, making him turn back to him. “Maybe your Alpha needs you.”

“Does it manifest at the exact moment it’s needed, or is it a pre-emptive thing?”

“Usually in the moment it’s needed.”

Stiles shook his head, looking back out at the field. “Then my Alpha’s fine.” Not that Scott was his Alpha anymore. Sure, Stiles still hung out with the pack, and he might have been _part_  of the pack, but he wasn’t exactly _in_  the pack anymore. He’d been trying to distance himself from all that since he decided he wanted to get more serious in the FBI and really make a difference.

That worked out _really_  well for him, considering he now couldn’t _be_  in the FBI. Thanks, magic. It was ruining his life.

At least he could make a living off it, even if he didn’t plan on doing the things people wanted. He was fine using it to help people, but he definitely wasn’t going to facilitate murder. If he sold _anything_  to both sides, it would just be protective spells. If he made both sides have equal protection, it would be a stalemate, and he could sleep easy at night knowing he’d actually _stopped_  people from murdering each other.

They sat in silence for a little while longer, Stiles finishing off the bar and shoving the wrapper into his pocket. It was when he reached for his water again that it occurred to him Cole had said it always manifested when someone was in need.

“Who needed you?” Stiles asked, uncapping his water.

“Hm?” Cole had been looking out at something in the field, and he focussed back on Stiles then. “What?”

“You said it comes about when someone needs us. Who needed you?”

He probably shouldn’t have asked, because Cole looked sad all of a sudden. Like he hadn’t thought about becoming a Sorcerer in a long time. Stiles could see that being what he was had cost him greatly, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to run into the same problem.

“A friend,” Cole said quietly. “Someone who was very dear to me. But I didn’t get there fast enough.”

Stiles paused in recapping his water, pressing his lips together. “What happened?”

“I waited too long to help them.” It wasn’t what Stiles was asking, but it still partially answered his question. “They needed me, and I ignored it. I was too focussed on being the best I could be, honing my skills, making a profit. My teacher was a selfish, money-hungry piece of shit, and that’s what I turned into. It’s why I didn’t want to teach you, because I don’t want to pass that down to you, but you seem to have a pretty good head on your shoulders.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his head, then glanced at Stiles. “It’s also why the second you’ve got this shit under control, I’m kicking you out. I’m not gonna let you make the same mistake I did. You’ve got this power because you need it, so once you can control it, you have to go out there and figure out who it is that needs your help.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Stiles asked, starting to feel a little anxious about it. What if he was already too late? “Can I do some kind of locator spell?”

Cole laughed and got to his feet, motioning Stiles up as well. “Wouldn’t _that_  be convenient. No, kid. It’s not that simple. You gotta find them on your own.”

“Well that’s useless,” Stiles muttered, obediently getting to his feet and holding his hands back out. Cole took the magic suppressors off, and Stiles walked back down the stairs. “Do I at least _know_  them?”

“Yeah, kid.” Cole offered him a small smile. “For magic this strong to have been released, you definitely know them. They mean something to you. They’re someone really important.”

“Huh.” Stiles frowned, trying to think on it. He had a lot of important people in his life, but he couldn’t really place who might be in trouble right then. They all seemed to be fine, for the most part.

“Enough chatter.” Cole clapped his hands together. “Let’s do it again.”

Stiles let out a slow breath, turning back to the field and feeling the magic slowly beginning to tingle in his fingers.

It was going to be another long day.

* * *

Stiles was with Cole for an additional three months, so six in total, before he woke up one morning and a thought occurred to him. It was so abrupt that he actually sat bolt upright and just stared at the far wall for a long while.

He kept in touch with everyone from the pack, even Jackson. Not for any sense of duty, but just because he liked knowing that they were safe and doing well. He and Isaac emailed once a month—or, they used to, before Stiles’ life had gone to shit and he’d been stuck in the countryside for six months—and Stiles made sure to keep track of every single person that was or is pack.

But it occurred to him he hadn’t exactly checked in on everyone since he’d come to Cole’s. He knew the immediate pack was okay, but what about those who’d gone off and were out of sight? Like Jackson and, by extension, Ethan? And Danny, who’d accidentally joined just because he was human and knew about the Supernatural? And Isaac?

And what about Derek?

Stiles hadn’t heard from Derek in a long time. They texted every now and then, Stiles mostly just making sure the dumbass wasn’t getting himself into trouble he couldn’t get out of, but once Stiles had sneezed the roof off the house, he’d kind of stopped keeping track of everyone.

It didn’t help that he’d fried his phone by accident, but he had everyone’s number and email written down specifically _because_  technology wasn’t entirely reliable. Not that he’d written them all down thinking he’d turn magical and fry his phone, but at least he’d had the forethought!

When he went down to breakfast that morning, for the first time in six months, he asked Cole to take a day off. He’d said no at first, but when Stiles explained _why_ , he sighed explosively, as if Stiles was a huge pain in his ass, and relented.

Stiles usually called his dad every other day, because he missed him and also because his dad didn’t trust Cole at _all_ , so it wasn’t like Cole was completely off the grid. Though Stiles _did_  have to wear the suppressors whenever he was anywhere near something electronic or electricity-based, including the fridge.

Cole had not been happy Stiles’ first day when he’d totally destroyed his fridge.

Stiles called his dad, caught up as best he could without being rude or impatient, and then asked his dad to find the book he’d left everyone’s emails and numbers in. He jotted everything down, asked about the pack back home, reminded his dad that he loved him, then hung up.

Even though his father had assured him everyone back home was safe, Stiles still called each and every one of them. He spoke to all of them in turn, spending a large amount of time with Scott considering they hadn’t really spoken in the past six months, and slowly but methodically crossed everyone off his list.

He called Jackson and Ethan next, who were both pissy with him because it was the middle of the night in England, apparently. Someone in the pack had told them about Stiles’ new abilities though, so Ethan was at least polite enough to give him a rundown of what had been going on and assuring him they were fine. Stiles called Isaac next, realizing it was the middle of the night for him, too, but Isaac was a lot more chipper at hearing from him since they usually just emailed.

He was fine, too. And so was Danny, who was living in Hawaii with the heir of some multi-billion dollar company and really, good for Danny. Stiles was happy for him, he deserved a life of luxury.

He got through the whole pack before staring at the last name. He didn’t know why, but he had a really bad feeling about the last name on his list. Probably because, out of everyone, if someone was in dire need of Stiles’ help, it _would_  be him, wouldn’t it?

Letting out a slow breath, Stiles picked up the phone and dialled the number. It clicked once, and Stiles felt his stomach bottom out when an automated voice told him the number was no longer in service.

That wasn’t right. Derek’s phone being dead should’ve sent him to voicemail. The only reason it would no longer be in service was if he’d disconnected it himself, or he’d defaulted on his payments and they’d cut his phone off.

Stiles hung up, trying not to panic. It was fine, this was nothing. Derek was okay, the big guy always was. Sure, he got into trouble a lot, but he always ended up being okay.

“Stiles? Stiles!”

He turned to Cole, who had both hands on his shoulders and looked worried.

“Stiles, calm down. It’s okay, everything is okay.”

He didn’t understand why Cole was reacting like that until he realized it wasn’t him trembling.

The house was shaking. Stiles looked down at his hands and saw the suppressors flickering on his wrists, like there was too much magic for them fully hold back.

“Come on. Let’s go outside. Come on, Stiles.”

Stiles obediently moved to the door, Cole’s hand gripping his shoulder tightly. They got outside and down the porch steps. Once they were far enough away from the house, Cole forced him to sit and then pushed his head between his own knees, hand at the back of his neck.

“Focus. Remember what I taught you. You can’t let your emotions dictate your magic, you need to keep them separate.”

That was easy for someone who’d been doing this for over twenty years to say. Stiles had just figured out who needed his help, and he didn’t know if he could help him.

Was Derek okay? Was he even still _alive_?! What had _happened_  to him to make Stiles’ magic explode out of him like it had?

Cole said it was the connection, the relationship between two people, but this seemed a little too extreme. Stiles knew he was Derek’s anchor, he’d been told this years ago. And Stiles himself had always been a little in love with Derek, but that couldn’t be it. There had to be more for a reaction like this.

“Breathe, Stiles. Focus.”

Stiles started going through all the training Cole had taught him, but it didn’t seem to be helping. Stiles couldn’t stop thinking about Derek, imagining every single thing that had happened to him in all the time Stiles had known him, picturing him bruised, bloodied, dying.

“Stiles,” Cole said, sounding nervous. And Stiles knew why he was nervous, because he could hear it, too. The earth was cracking and splitting around them. He had to calm down, he had to focus, but none of Cole’s techniques were working. _Nothing_  was working.

Stiles clenched his eyes shut, and for some reason his mind brought him back to a time where he’d been sitting in the back of a van with Derek and Liam. Derek was holding a triskelion and explaining what it was.

Bullshitting Liam on what it was, anyway.

But somehow, the memory of it, and the explanation of it, while it hadn’t helped Liam at all, was helping Stiles. He forced himself to think the words, hearing Derek’s voice telling him to go slower.

Alpha. Beta. Omega.

Werewolves could always rise to one and fall to another.

Alpha. Beta. Omega.

Stiles repeated the words over and over in his head, pretending Cole’s hand on his shoulder was Derek’s, telling him to calm down, to focus.

It took much longer than he’d have liked, but he finally managed to calm down. He was sweating when he finally opened his eyes, and his heart was going a mile a minute in his chest. Cole was breathing shakily, like he honestly hadn’t known how to stop Stiles if he decided to go nuclear.

“I know who needs me,” he said softly.

Cole was silent for a long moment. “You’re not ready.”

“He’s running out of time, if he’s not already dead.”

Cole let out a small sigh. “You’re no good to him like this.” He paused. “We’ll go harder. I’ll push you harder. But until you have control, you’re not going to be any use to him.”

“I’ll have control,” Stiles said, looking down at his wrists where the magic suppressors were just charred bands. “For him, I’ll have control.”

“Then we better get to work.”

* * *

Stiles left Cole’s house two months later with a promise he would _not_  get on a plane any time soon. His control wasn’t great, but it was the best they could do without Stiles risking Derek’s life any more than he already had. He kept thinking about Cole’s words, how he hadn’t helped his friend, and while Cole never told him how long he’d waited, Stiles felt like it was a few years.

With any luck, Derek would still be alive. He probably wasn’t _okay_ , but he was _alive_ , and that was the important thing. Even if Stiles had absolutely _no idea_ where to even start looking.

He supposed he owed Cole a thanks for more than just being his teacher, because while on his travels he was always found by people who needed help. News had travelled about a powerful new Sorcerer, probably the most powerful one of this era, and a lot of people who approached him on the streets quietly told him they’d heard about him from Cole.

It allowed Stiles to make some money, and he really did owe Cole one for only sending him people looking for _help_  and not _weapons_. He was approached by Hunters every now and then, but only asking him for talismans or help with things that didn’t involve murdering Werewolves for sport.

Sometimes Stiles saw people he _knew_  were Supernatural, or even Hunters. He didn’t know _how_  he knew, but he figured it was another one of those Sorcerer things. A way for him to protect himself. The ones he noticed but didn’t notice him were probably ones Cole hadn’t told, because they acted like he was just another random homeless guy on the street.

Not that Stiles was homeless. He wasn’t hurting for money, and he stayed in motels every night, but he tried not to buy new clothes. He ended up getting a new bag though, because all he had was the duffel he’d brought to Cole’s and it was hard to carry around all the time. He ended up buying a camper’s backpack, along with a few camping materials since camping out in the woods was cheaper than paying for motels, and allowed him to keep more of it for food.

Besides, he’d gotten really good at protection spells. So much so that he actually forgot about it one day and when a cougar charged him, he tripped backwards over his dinner, lit his pants on fire, and all he had to show for it was a dead cougar whose neck had broken slamming into his barrier.

Stiles had been forced to buy new pants. He was _not_  happy about it. And also felt kind of bad for the whole killing a cougar by accident thing.

Finding Derek was hard. Stiles had no idea where to look and most of the time he felt like he was just wandering aimlessly. He kept in touch with his dad and Cole, and he emailed Scott and Isaac every now and then from internet cafés, but otherwise, he tried to keep a low profile.

Whenever he spent the night in the woods, he always practised his magic. He was getting really good at it, but he still had trouble with control when it came to his emotions. If he got angry, or scared, or started panicking about Derek, things went south really quickly. He always had to repeat the Alpha, Beta, Omega mantra to calm himself down.

Ironic that it hadn’t worked for a Werewolf, but it seemed to work just fine for a human.

Well, Sorcerer. Whatever.

After Stiles had been travelling around for a month, he finally called Cole again to ask for help. He didn’t know what he was doing, and he was losing control more often worrying about Derek. He had no idea where to even _start_.

 _“We might be able to do something,”_ Cole said thoughtfully. _“Do you have anything that belongs to him? Locator spells don’t work for the person your powers manifested to protect, but maybe if I tried I could at least narrow the search for you.”_

Of course Stiles couldn’t locate him, that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? Cole had once explained it as magic having limits, but Stiles just insisted it was the God of Magic figuring it would be fucking _hilarious_  to create Sorcerers by having someone they loved in trouble and then going, “Psych! Good luck finding them!”

The thing that made this even worse was that even after Stiles _found_  Derek—provided he did at all—the spell would never work on him. Stiles would _never_  be able to use a spell to find Derek, ever, because he was the reason behind his magic. And that was just stupid.

Magic was _stupid_.

He didn’t want to continue his fruitless search, so while he wasn’t super keen on heading home considering one, plane, and two, Derek needed him, Stiles had no choice. Though he _did_  find a bus that could get him back home instead of taking a plane. It took twice as long, but at least he didn’t inadvertently bring down an entire airport.

Cole was there before he was, staying at Chris Argent’s house. His dad hugged him so hard when he walked through the door that a few vertebrae popped. As much as he wanted to sit and catch up, he couldn’t, and his dad seemed to recognize that because he drove them both over to Chris’ house and Stiles handed over one of Derek’s shirts.

He had a key to the loft, so really, it was easy going in there and grabbing something. Funnily enough, and little known fact, apparently Stiles was the _only_  person with a key to the loft. And he hadn’t even had it made! Derek had actually _given_  it to him!

Cole offered him a tired but reassuring smile, took the shirt, and immediately went, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Stiles asked. “Oh what? What oh? Oh you found him? Is he okay?”

“No, I didn’t find him,” Cole said, eying Stiles with renewed interest. “You have a Druid here, right? In town?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said uncertainly.

“Can you call him? Or we can go to him, whichever is most convenient.”

“Deaton doesn’t really do house calls,” Stiles said. “We should just go to him.”

He wanted to ask why, but Cole looked like he was having an epiphany so he just climbed back into the cruiser with him and his dad and they headed to the clinic.

Stiles felt guilty with how excited Scott was to see him, but he wasn’t planning on staying long. He just needed to get some answers, figure out where to start looking for Derek, and go from there. He wasn’t coming back again until he either found Derek, or... well, he was hoping it would be because he found Derek.

They went into the back room where Deaton was, and he seemed delighted to see Stiles, and thrilled to meet Cole. They talked shop for a little bit, Deaton asking about certain items he needed and Cole offering guidance. Stiles spent the whole time pacing and trying to hold his tongue, but they eventually had to stop when the room started shaking because he was getting so antsy.

“Perhaps we can continue our discussion at a later time,” Deaton said, very wisely, eying the way a metal tray was slowly but surely shaking its way to the edge of a shelf.

“Indeed.” Cole grabbed Stiles’ shoulder when he started to pass him to continue pacing. “Focus, Stiles.”

“Look, you asked for a shirt, I brought you to Deaton, can we just—” Stiles motioned moving things along.

Scott was hanging out by the open door, but he made no move to come in and he hadn’t offered Stiles any words of comfort. He looked a little pouty, like Stiles not being one-hundred percent focussed on him was bothering him.

And hey, if Scott was the one who’d needed his help, Stiles would be hyper-focussed on him. He would. But he didn’t need his help, Derek did, so he was going to be hyper-focussed on Derek, thank you.

“What can you tell me about Derek Hale?” Cole asked.

Which annoyed Stiles, because he’d been telling Cole about him for _months_. Though he supposed he was a little biassed, because he and Deaton described him a little differently. Not that Deaton gave a poor description of him, but he’d done so in a more factual sense rather than as someone who was in love with him like Stiles was.

“You’re aware Stiles is his anchor, then?” Cole asked.

Scott jerked slightly from the doorway, and Stiles realized he hadn’t known. Derek obviously hadn’t shared that with him, and it wasn’t Stiles’ place so he hadn’t, either.

“I am aware, yes.” Deaton said.

“And you’re aware of his capacity to be Derek’s Emissary.”

Scott made a distressed noise from the door. Deaton’s eyes shifted to him briefly before focussing on Cole once more, inclining his head.

“Stiles has always had the potential to be an Emissary, yes. Given Derek is no longer an Alpha, it seems only fitting that he should be Scott’s once I retire.”

“Or unless Stiles finds Derek first,” Cole said.

Stiles was happy to see Deaton confused, for once in his fucking life. But he quickly recovered, and Stiles realized what Cole was saying at almost the exact same moment.

“Derek’s an Alpha again,” he said breathlessly.

“Yes.” Cole glanced at him. “He is. And if that’s true, then Sorcerer or not, you’re still his Emissary. And as his Emissary, you can probably find him. But that isn’t why I came here. Because there’s one other way to find him.”

Cole tossed the shirt to Deaton, who caught it, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“I think you do,” Cole informed him. “I think you’ve been more focussed on the new Alpha of the area than on the survivor of the Hale pack like you should’ve been. You haven’t told them, have you? Either of them.”

“It’s not my place,” Deaton said, and obviously, he wasn’t confused anymore.

“Your _place_  as Emissary is to provide guidance. To help steer your charge in the right direction. You’ve done that for years with the new Alpha, but your loyalty should’ve remained with the Hale boy. His mother was your Alpha.”

“But he was not,” Deaton said pleasantly, though his expression hardened. “I offer guidance to Scott, now. I owe Derek nothing.”

“So you were going to force Stiles into being another Alpha’s Emissary, even though he was clearly slated to become Derek’s?” Cole asked coldly. “While deplorable, I admire your attempts to keep the new Alpha in power. But this?” Cole pointed at the shirt. “This you _cannot_  do. There are limits. I’m not a good person, Mr. Deaton, and I’ll sell anything to anyone to make a few bucks. But even _this_  line I won’t cross. So you can’t stand there and tell me that you would.”

“Okay, what is going on with Derek’s shirt?” Stiles demanded. “It’s a _shirt_! What are you talking about?”

Deaton glanced past Cole at Scott, like he was asking for permission. Scott looked confused—and a little hurt, like he was realizing all this time that Stiles was never meant to be his—but he just shrugged in a, “Whatever, dude,” sort of way. He obviously had no idea what was going on, either.

Cole seemed done with waiting on Deaton, because he turned to Stiles. “You’ve known Derek for a long time, right? The two of you have been friends for a while?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So have you ever noticed a weird connection between you?” Cole shrugged slightly. “Like you always felt compelled to help him? Like you hated him but somehow couldn’t stop yourself from protecting him?”

Stiles was silent, because everyone else in the room knew that was true. Stiles hadn’t wanted to help Derek at the beginning, he kept asking Scott to consider letting him die. But every time the opportunity presented itself, he helped him. He always used to argue it was because he was a strong ally, but it wasn’t that. It was because Stiles was a good person and protecting people was what he did.

“Did he do the same for you? To an almost unprecedented degree? Did he protect you more than your own Alpha did?”

“Hey!” Scott insisted, but Deaton held one hand up to him and just shook his head.

“So what?” Stiles asked, frustrated. “We’re like that in this pack. We protect each other, it’s a thing.”

“Not for born wolves, it isn’t.”

Stiles shifted his gaze to Deaton when he said this, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Born wolves don’t protect humans to that degree, Stiles,” Deaton said quietly. “There are only very specific instances where a born wolf will protect a human at the cost of its own life. Born wolves protect their young to the death, and they protect their mate to the death. That’s it. If you’re a human, while they _will_  protect you, they will always weigh whether their life is at risk or not. If they risk death, they won’t do it. Derek has never stopped to consider his own life when protecting you. He just did it.”

Stiles stared at him, then looked at Cole.

“You look a little old to be his kid,” Cole said with a knowing look.

So if Stiles wasn’t Derek’s kid, and Derek as a born wolf would protect him at the cost of his own life, then that meant—

“Holy shit,” Scott said. “Holy _shit_ , are you Derek’s _mate_?!”

“Is that even a thing?” Stiles demanded. “That _can’t_  be a thing. That’s just—like, something we joke about. Like dog jokes about Derek liking kibble and buying him a leash. Mates aren’t a thing.”

“Mates are entirely ‘a thing,’” Deaton informed him.

That was when Stiles remembered what Cole had just said and he frowned, rounding on Deaton. “You knew.”

“I did,” he admitted.

“How long?”

Deaton was silent for much too long, suggesting he’d known for a while. Maybe even years.

“How _long_ , Deaton?!”

They all jumped when the lights above them exploded and Stiles inhaled deeply, trying to stay in control. Magic was a huge pain, if he was honest, especially since apparently his Alpha and _mate_  was in danger out in the world somewhere and for all the magic he had, Stiles couldn’t fucking _find_  him!

“Since the Alpha pack,” Deaton finally said. “I knew since the Alpha pack.”

“But you didn’t say anything,” Stiles snapped, Cole moving to put his hand on his shoulder again, squeezing tightly.

“If you and Derek completed your bond, you couldn’t be Scott’s Emissary,” Deaton argued. “I didn’t think it wise for you to do that before deciding on what you wanted.”

“Is _everyone_  in this town fucking _selfish_?!” Stiles demanded, Cole’s hand tightening on his shoulder and the room beginning to shake again. “You didn’t tell me because you _wanted_ me to be Scott’s Emissary! And you _knew_ that wasn’t what _I_ wanted! You knew that if I found out I could have Derek, I would be with him and then I couldn’t belong to Scott! You had no right to make that decision for me!”

“Derek should have told you himself,” Deaton said coldly. “It was not my place to tell you something of that nature.”

“Derek is dying!” Stiles shouted, and Cole grabbed the back of his neck and forced him to his knees when every window in the clinic exploded outwards.

Scott hit the floor with a curse, looking around, and Deaton had also dropped down to avoid injury.

“Stiles,” Cole said gruffly right in his ear, hand tightening around the back of his neck. “I know you’re angry. I know you’re upset. But you need to control yourself before you do something you regret.”

Stiles clenched his hands on the ground, feeling glass biting into his palms and closed his eyes. Alpha. Beta. Omega. A Werewolf could rise to one and fall to another. Alpha. Beta. Omega.

“I can help you find him.”

Stiles’ eyes snapped open and he looked up, Deaton getting back to his feet and looking down at Derek’s shirt.

“You can’t locate him as a Sorcerer, there are limitations to magic when it comes to the one who manifested it inside you. But as an Emissary, as a mate, there are ways.”

Stiles turned to Cole, surprised. That was why Cole had brought him here. Because Cole could only show him Sorcerer magic.

Deaton was a Druid. Their magic was different.

He’d said so himself.

“Show me.” Stiles got to his feet, Cole releasing him. “Show me how to find him.”

“It’ll take time,” Deaton said.

“Derek hasn’t _got_  time!” Stiles insisted desperately.

“He’s lasted this long,” Cole insisted, groaning and getting to his feet as well. “He has time.”

“How can you know that?” Stiles demanded.

Cole looked sad, and nodded once. “I know. He’s got time.” He glanced at Deaton. “I’ll fix your windows.”

“Thank you.”

Stiles turned back to Deaton, motioning for him to get started.

He didn’t even notice that Scott was gone.

* * *

Druid magic was _infuriating_. Stiles was used to just doing things and having it happen. Or sometimes not even meaning to do things and having it happen. Sorcerer magic was all about immediate results.

Druid magic wasn’t like that at all. It was all about patience, and precision, and intent. If nothing else, Stiles was grateful for his training with Deaton, because it taught him control. And teaching him control helped keep his _other_  magic under control.

With Deaton, whenever Stiles got impatient and started rushing things, he always messed them up and instead of fixing the problem so they could continue, Deaton just made him start over.

Again. And again. And again.

It was infuriating, but after he recognized Deaton wasn’t trying to be an asshole, and that the two magics truly _were_  different, Stiles started paying attention and started focussing more. And he started to control things a bit more.

In a way, that was what made Druid magic so hard. It was all about control, something Stiles struggled with. But Deaton was a good teacher. Deaton was the McGonagall he’d hoped to have for his Sorcerer magic, but he’d settle for having him as his Druid one.

Little known fact: Druids weren’t born, they were made. Stiles got to be a super special awesome magician now, because he was both a Sorcerer _and_  a Druid. Yay.

Spending time with Deaton also helped him remain calm about Derek, because one of the first things he was taught related to the connection between Alpha and Emissary. Deaton called it a connection, but Stiles just said it was a pack bond.

He didn’t feel it all the time, but when he closed his eyes and focussed, he could almost _sense_  Derek. Not in a way where he could speak to him, or locate him, but it allowed him some insight on how he was doing.

He wasn’t dying like he’d thought, but he was suffering. He was in pain, and he was scared, and Stiles could tell based on the amount of despair coming through the bond that he thought no one was coming for him. He thought he was going to remain where he was, suffering, until the day he died.

It made Stiles pissed. He didn’t know who he was pissed at, but probably mostly himself. He and Derek had always had a weird connection, and he’d known that from the beginning. They should’ve clued in when Derek made Stiles his anchor. They should’ve realized it when Stiles almost turned away from Scott when Derek was dying. They should’ve realized it when Stiles and Derek drove back across the country together to help the pack in Beacon Hills.

They’d always had something, and when they’d parted ways again, Stiles should’ve tried harder to keep in touch. They texted on and off every now and then, but he’d never made it a point to actually _keep in touch_.

He never asked where Derek was, how he was doing, what he was up to. Stiles couldn’t even remember when he’d last texted Derek before his powers had manifested. A week? Two? A month? He tried not to go too long without touching base with everyone, but he slipped sometimes.

Sometimes Isaac emailed him and he forgot about it for a few months. Sometimes Danny texted him and Stiles would read it and then forget to respond for days. Hell, sometimes his _dad_  called and Stiles forgot to call him back.

Stiles didn’t know anything about what Derek had been up to since they parted ways, and that wasn’t okay. That was _not_  okay, and this entire past year was proof of that.

Because it had been almost a year, at this point. Eight months with Cole, one on the road, and two with Deaton. Derek had been wherever he was for a year, and he thought no one was coming.

But Stiles was. Stiles was coming. Frustratingly slowly, but he was coming.

He was _coming_.

And surprisingly, it wasn’t magic that helped him this time. It was good old police work, courtesy of his father.

Because while Stiles was training with Deaton, learning control and how to breathe in and out through his nose in a meditative coma, the sheriff had put out a call on the Camaro. And even though Stiles wasn’t _technically_  done his training with Deaton, the day he came home with news was the same day he decided he had to go.

The Camaro had been found in Montana. It had been stripped almost to the frame, sold for parts, and apparently abandoned for over four months near an old train station. The irony of it being a train station wasn’t lost on Stiles, and he idly wondered if Derek had been living in it.

The thing about this, though, was that his Druid side now had a starting point. His Sorcerer side would help with fighting and protection, but his Druid side was all he had to actually _find_  Derek. So Stiles got onto a plane, spent the whole ride forcing himself to stay in control, and then went to find the old train station.

The Camaro had been taken away by the cops before he got there, and the area was cordoned off—probably still his dad’s doing, insisting it was a crime scene now because Derek was missing—but it was easy for Stiles to get past the one cop who was still stationed there. He used a glamour spell—which wasn’t as exciting as it sounded—which was almost like turning invisible, but not. It was more like being a chameleon, he supposed. It bent light around him so that the image reflected back on him looked like the area around him.

So, sure, he was invisible. Cole just didn’t like to call it that because anyone looking hard enough would _see_  the distortion in the air, but this was a regular human cop and he looked like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep, so Stiles passed him easily and made his way through the dilapidated area.

He found the spot where the Camaro had been, the impressions in the grass and the area around it a little more overgrown. Stiles stared down at the space, walking around it slowly, then stopped by one end of it. Bending down, he reached into his hoodie and pulled out a vial, pouring dust into his hand and then blowing it onto the grass.

At first, nothing happened, but before he lost his temper, he just closed his eyes and reminded himself to have _patience_. Maybe he’d done it wrong. Maybe it hadn’t taken effect yet. Maybe he wasn’t at the right spot.

Stiles stood to find another spot, but paused when the ground shimmered slightly and a thin thread appeared, heading out towards where the cop was. It flickered a few times before going out, and Stiles just crouched beside where it had been, urging it to come back. It finally did, slowly, and faintly, but it was a start. He had a _start_.

Though this wasn’t what he’d originally been trying to do, hell, he would fucking take it. So he followed the thread as far as it could take him, and once it disappeared, he asked around the area, showing people Derek’s picture. Someone remembered him, and said he’d rented a motel room from their cousin. So Stiles went there next.

It was like the slowest, most infuriating game of Clue Stiles had ever played in his life. Every time he found a clue, he had to follow it to another clue, and then another, and another. He always eventually hit a dead end, but before he completely lost his shit, he would remind himself to have patience, and would try something else.

Sometimes he tried Sorcerer magic, because he was more used to it and it provided immediate results, but it wasn’t as useful for what he was doing. He usually tried to stick to Druid magic, using his Emissary connection to Derek, as well as his apparent mate bond to try and find him.

One night, Stiles had been sitting in a motel room with his fist against his cheek, flipping through the channels and getting more frustrated by the second when out of nowhere a thread appeared. He’d packed up and left so fast, he almost forgot to pay for the few hours he’d spent in the room.

It ended up being another dead end, but every clue was still one step closer. And he always checked in, connected with Derek through the pack bond, made sure he was still alive. The hopelessness and anger he felt growing on a daily basis worried him. Because he didn’t want Derek to do something stupid that would end up killing him. He knew that Derek didn’t acknowledge the bond yet, didn’t realize he even _had_  an Emissary, so try as he might, whatever calm and “I’m coming!” he threw down the bond didn’t hit him. Derek had no idea he wasn’t alone, he just thought he was.

And as the days passed, Stiles began to worry that he’d _never_  find him. That his attempts at locating him were too slow and he was never going to reach him before he eventually just died.

That was what he thought. Until one day, while trying to track down someone who _thought_  they might have seen Derek, he felt something.

And then he found him.

* * *

“‘I think my sister slept with that guy,’ my ass,” Stiles muttered, rearranging his pack angrily and tightening the straps. “If Derek got laid in the last year, I’ll literally kill him because it means I worried about him for _nothing_.”

Stiles stopped at a crosswalk, looking both ways and trying to decide which direction he should go in when his stomach grumbled. Right. Food. He should probably do that, he hadn’t had anything to eat in... a while.

Shit, had he had breakfast? He couldn’t remember. Probably time for a food stop.

The light changed and Stiles started across the street, looking around. There were a bunch of eateries and cafés in the area, but they were probably expensive. He still made good money during his travels—thank you, Cole—but he tried not to overspend when he could help it.

McDonalds it was, he supposed. Cheapest place around. He just had to find one.

He’d just started to walk down towards the end of the street when something in his gut told him he was missing something. It was such an odd feeling that he paused for a second, just in time to see a thread in front of him. It was so bright, he could only assume his hunger had made him oblivious to it, and when he turned his head to follow it, he locked eyes with a dog.

It had been lying down at his owner’s feet, who was seated at a table outside a café with a bunch of guys, joking and laughing. It looked like it had seen better days. Its fur was matted, with patches missing in places, it was so thin Stiles could see its bones poking through, the leash seemed to be too tight because the skin around its neck was rubbed raw, and it had a muzzle.

And the second Stiles locked eyes with it, the dog’s head shot up.

Because that wasn’t a dog. Stiles had seen many dogs in his life, and that right there wasn’t a dog.

It was a wolf.

And it was a wolf he recognized.

Because he’d only ever met one wolf.

It let out a loud, distressed sound that Stiles heard from across the street, then whined when one of the men kicked him in the face.

Stiles’ heart was slamming against his ribs, and he could feel power beginning to accumulate in his hands but he forced himself to find control. He couldn’t explode the entire block, not only would it injure countless people, including Derek, but it would also expose him and he’d lose the upper hand.

No, he had to remain calm. He had to think smart.

Stiles looked around, then jogged quickly to the closest crosswalk, glancing over every few seconds to be sure the men weren’t leaving. They seemed to be enjoying a meal, so he knew he had time to get across the street, but after _months_  of looking for Derek, he wasn’t taking any chances.

The light had barely changed before he was hurrying across the street, but once he hit the sidewalk, he forced himself to slow down. Be calm. Be cool. He couldn’t just walk up to these guys and go, “Excuse me, that’s my Derek, I’ll be taking him back now.”

They were Hunters. Stiles knew they were Hunters, because his new internal senses told him so. That meant they knew the wolf with them was a Werewolf, and if Stiles wasn’t careful, they would know he was a Sorcerer. Not that he was in any danger of them hurting him, considering Cole could barely keep a handle on his powers, and Cole was extremely powerful. But Hunters could threaten Derek and if Stiles lost control, he couldn’t honestly guarantee that he could protect Derek before someone killed him.

He was trying to walk at a normal, casual pace while approaching the café and had barely decided on a course of action when he just went for it.

“I love your dog!” he blurted out, ignoring how stupid he sounded and quickly bending down.

“He’s not friendly!” the ‘owner’ snapped, tugging on Derek’s leash to pull him out of Stiles’ reach, but Stiles was faster.

He was _so_ much faster. Because this was _Derek_ and he’d _found him_ , and fuck were these men going to _pay_  for this!

He already had his hands in Derek’s matted fur by the time the owner tried to pull him back. Derek wouldn’t let him, because he just strained against the collar choking him, whining and pleading with his eyes, saying, “Stiles, it’s me! It’s _me_! Stiles, _please_!”

As if Stiles didn’t know.

As if Stiles hadn’t known the _second_  he’d seen him.

 _Patience,_ Stiles ordered himself, gritting his teeth. _Alpha. Beta. Omega. Focus._

“He seems friendly enough to me,” Stiles insisted, rubbing his hands along Derek’s back, up over his head, down his throat. He tried to touch him as much as humanly possible without it being weird, because Stiles wasn’t actually petting him.

He’d spent months looking for him, and while locator spells didn’t work on the person who manifested his powers, tracking spells sure did! So he was spreading that spell over every fucking inch he could get his hands on, because no _way_  was he losing Derek a second time.

The ‘owner’ yanked back on Derek’s leash hard and he let out a strangled yelp, finally being pulled away from Stiles entirely. But that was okay. It was infuriating, and Stiles had to clench his hands to stop from making the glass explode around him, but he’d gotten enough of the spell onto him.

He could already feel it taking effect, he knew he wouldn’t lose him.

“Beat it, kid,” the ‘owner’ snapped, giving him a disgusted look.

“Sorry,” Stiles forced a smile and got back to his feet. “I just really love dogs.”

“You shouldn’t touch strange dogs,” the guy insisted. “You don’t know what they’ll do to you.”

“Fair enough.” Stiles forced another smile. “Have a good day.”

He turned to walk away, and the sound Derek made almost broke his heart. He sounded so distressed, and scared, and worried. He let out a yelp when he got another kick, Stiles exhaling sharply and clenching his hands tightly enough to break skin, but he didn’t lose control.

He just turned back to the ‘dog’ and offered a small smile. “Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll see you again real soon.”

Stiles didn’t wait to see if the nickname clicked. He didn’t wait to see if Derek realized Stiles knew it was him. He just walked away as quickly as he could, hands shaking from suppressed power.

He had to go seven blocks to find a secluded area full of abandoned and condemned buildings, and then he screamed so loudly he took an entire building down with the force of his rage.

* * *

Scott wanted him to wait. When Stiles called to say he’d found Derek, Scott had insisted the pack would come and help him get him out. And normally, Stiles would agree. He would wait, and plan, and figure out the best course of action.

But Stiles wasn’t the research guy anymore. He wasn’t the human who made the plans and did all the research and showed up to a gunfight with a baseball bat. That wasn’t him anymore.

That hadn’t been him for a year.

Stiles was Supernatural, now. Stiles could go into a gunfight with nothing more than his bare hands, same as the wolves could. And the difference? Stiles could walk out without a scratch.

Which was why he told Scott not to waste his money, and that he’d have Derek home as soon as possible. Then he hung up.

It was stressful, waiting around to get Derek out, but the problem was that Stiles needed to know _where_ he was. He couldn’t just try and grab a dog from a bunch of guys in the middle of the street, it made him look like a dog thief. And he couldn’t use his magic in front of normal people, because if _Harry Potter_ had one thing right, it was that normal people were _not_  ready for this kind of thing.

So, Stiles found a motel where he could get a room around the back, away from the front desk so that if Derek was still in wolf form, he’d be able to get him into the room without the desk clerk bitching that pets weren’t allowed. Then he showered, checking his tracking spell at least once every ten seconds, and he changed into darker clothes.

He went out when it was closer to dusk, just to see where Derek was being held—since he _was_  being held—and was pissed to realize it was in the ritzier part of town. Somehow, Hunters always seemed to have enough money to buy large, lavish houses with torture chambers in the basement.

But at least the houses were far apart, so any fighting that happened would take a bit for the neighbours to clue in on. There was also a fence, which wasn’t ideal, but Stiles could burn through the bars. He just didn’t want to make his presence known, if he could help it. As pissed as he was, Stiles wasn’t a murderer, and he didn’t want to have to kill anyone to get Derek out.

Though he did recognize that he _would_  if he had to.

He took a bus back down the road and got off at the closest coffee shop he could find. He got himself a drink and some dinner, then sat there reading a newspaper until the shop closed. It was pitch black out by then, and the bus had reduced hours, so he had to wait half an hour for the next one to come by. He took it back up towards the house, then climbed off and had to walk three blocks to reach it—because buses didn’t go _right_  along that road, since every rich fuck on the block probably had multiple cars.

Stiles started bending the light around him when he was still half a block away, reminding himself to focus, to stay in control, to not lose his temper even though he really, really, _really_  wanted to.

When he reached the front gate, he tested it to see if he could climb it, but it rattled too much and he worried someone would hear him. He moved around to the side and burned through the metal near a corner, trying to do it behind one of the trees in the front yard so that it wouldn’t be noticed too quickly.

Moving up to the front door, he saw quite a few lights still on, which was frustrating, but not a game changer. It was well past ten, surely they were all enjoying a good TV show or having sex upstairs or something. No need to believe they were down in the basement torturing his mate, they’d probably reserved that for daylight hours.

Stiles reached the front door and pressed his hand to the lock. No _alohamora_  bullshit for him, the door unlocked instantly and he pushed it open, slipping into the house. He had barely a second to look around before an alarm began to beep and he cursed.

Of _course_  a place like this would have an alarm, and he didn’t know the code. Stiles just hurried towards the corner, out of the way as much as possible, and held his breath while the beeping continued until the alarm finally went off because the code hadn’t been input.

“The hell?” someone shouted from another room.

A guy came flying down the stairs with a gun in his hand, and Derek’s ‘owner’ rushed out of the living room. The one with the gun reached the door first and threw it open, moving out onto the porch while the second one went to the alarm and typed in the code, cutting it off instantly. Stiles leaned forward to watch, because he would need that to get back out.

Heels clicked down the corridor and Stiles saw a woman walking out of what had to be the kitchen, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and looking annoyed.

“What is it?”

“No idea,” the guy who’d turned the alarm off said, going out onto the porch to join the other man.

Stiles just stayed completely still, panicking that he was about to become visible and then forcing himself _not_  to panic because _panicking_  would probably _make_  him visible! He really didn’t want to have to fight off a whole house of Hunters. He could do it, he knew he could, but he didn’t _want_  to.

“I don’t see anything,” the guy with the gun said, coming back into the house. The other one followed and shut the door, locking it. He went back to the alarm to reset it while the woman hummed.

“Check on the animals,” she ordered, turning to head back into the kitchen.

Oh good, Stiles could see where they were.

He wasn’t planning on moving for a while, but it would be nice to have a general idea of where he had to go. He watched gun-dude head down the corridor and around the corner. He opened a door immediately, suggesting the entrance to the basement was right on the other side.

The other guy was still in the entrance, eyeing the door like he didn’t trust it. He stood there for such a long while that Stiles was _sure_  he was going to notice him, but eventually he headed back to the living room and Stiles exhaled slowly.

The house was silent for a moment, then a door slammed and gun-dude came back around the corner, moving to poke his head into the kitchen.

“All accounted for.”

“Good. Can’t have them running around the neighbourhood.”

The guy laughed, clearly amused, and Stiles just reminded himself that murder was illegal and his dad would be very disappointed in him.

When he was sure it was safe to move, Stiles slowly made his way down the corridor. He wasn’t going to get Derek out now, that would be stupid when he knew at least _three_  people were still awake. He just wanted to get a feel for where the door was.

He rounded the corner, this one leading down to what looked like a spare bedroom with an adjacent bathroom. But right at the corner there was a door. It had a lock on it, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He just cautiously made his way to the room, and when he found it empty, he went to hunker down in a corner, sitting on his ass and bending his knees, arms resting on them and head back against the wall.

Staying in camouflage was draining, but he didn’t want to risk being spotted so he kept it up, closing his eyes and focussing on his bond with Derek. He was still in pain, and scared, but he didn’t feel as hopeless as he had yesterday. That meant he knew Stiles had recognized him, and he knew Stiles was coming.

“I’m right here, big guy,” he said quietly, though he was positive Derek couldn’t hear him. “I’m right here. I’ll get you out, just sit tight.”

He felt like he’d been sitting there for hours, because he kept hearing movement above him and wanted these people to just _go to bed_! By the time the house went completely silent, he checked his watch and saw it was just past one in the morning.

Perfect. Though it occurred to him Derek was injured and Stiles didn’t have a car.

Whatever, he’d carry him if he had to, they just needed to get somewhere down the road and Stiles could call a cab.

Getting back to his feet and wincing, his muscles sore, he kept the glamour spell on and eased out of the room, looking down the dark corridor and listening hard. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of a clock ticking somewhere. So far so good.

Inching out of the room, he widened his eyes slightly, as if it would help him see in the dark. All the lights were off, and the street was too far away for any of the lamps to provide much illumination, but he just ran the fingers of one hand along the wall slowly until it turned to wood.

He’d reached the door.

He slowly searched for the handle, then pressed his other hand above it, the sound of the door unlocking seeming to echo in the empty house. He waited for a few seconds, but nobody stirred.

Easing open the door, he recoiled because the light was still on down there. He hadn’t even been able to see it peeking out from under the door, so this place was locked up real tight. He stepped onto the stairs quickly, and silently shut the door behind him, but didn’t latch it. He figured it would be safer not having to open it again, the risk of the light being noticed was slim provided no one came down this way, but the sound of the door opening and shutting could be heard from anywhere.

He made it one step down before noticing the mountain ash. There was a line of it along every step, including at the edge of the door. It was positioned in such a way that people wouldn’t step on it every time they went up and down the stairs.

Stiles broke the lines with his foot, turning to do the same at the door, and then moved silently down the stairs, breaking line after line as he went.

When he hit the bottom, his stomach dropped. He’d seen Hunters and their torture rooms before. After all, he’d been in one himself courtesy of Gerard Argent, and he’d seen Derek strung up enough times that he felt like he knew what he was walking into.

He didn’t.

This basement looked like it was as large as the house above it, and it branched out into different rooms. Some of them looked like they were actually prison cells, but the kind for supervillains in a Marvel movie. The doors were made entirely of metal, with only a small opening around eye level, and another at the bottom presumably to slide food into it.

Stiles felt very uncomfortable, but he slowly walked forward. He turned to look into the first cell, and found what could only be a Kanima. It was pacing and hissing in his direction, like it could tell he was there, even if it couldn’t see him. The next cell was empty, but the one after it wasn’t and Stiles quickly looked away.

Something was in there, but it had been dead for a long time. It looked like the Hunters were keeping track of its decomposition, because there was a camera on a tripod set up right in the middle of the room.

He didn’t want to look in any more cells, but thankfully there were only three more. One was empty, and the last two held two humans who were likely Chimeras or some kind of Weres.

No Derek, which made him _extremely_  anxious, but he wasn’t done looking around, and he’d checked in on him upstairs. He was here somewhere, he just had to find him.

He passed a few other rooms that had his stomach turning. One looked like an operating room, and Stiles didn’t know if it was to treat wounded Hunters, or for _other_  things. He didn’t really want to know. The room after it answered his question, because it was some kind of morgue, complete with countless bodies covered with white sheets. The closest one had a hand peeking out from underneath, and the claws suggested none of these deceased people were human.

Swallowing hard and resisting the urge to burn the place down, Stiles kept walking until he moved into the last room. It had an innumerable number of cages of all different sizes. A majority of them were empty, but some housed animals. An owl, a panther, some kind of weird-looking giant hamster thing.

But his eyes zeroed in instantly on the whining wolf locked in a cage much too small for it, pawing incessantly at the door. Derek knew he was there, he could smell him, and probably hear him. He just couldn’t see him.

But he knew he was there.

Stiles felt so much relief at seeing him that it physically hurt. He let the glamour spell fade, the owl flapping its wings in surprise, and he rushed to the cage.

“It’s okay, buddy. I’m here. I’ve got you.” Stiles wrestled to get the cage open, his hands shaking because he’d found him, he was _here_ , and God, he looked _terrible_!

But freaking out wasn’t going to make this go any faster so Stiles forced himself to pause, closing his eyes and taking a breath. “Calm down, calm down,” he whispered to himself, then opened his eyes and was able to get the cage open.

Derek was out and on top of him in the same second, licking at his face and whining, rubbing himself all over Stiles’ neck and chest.

He was shaking. Stiles hated that Derek was shaking, because Derek had never been anything but brave in front of him. But if Derek had been here, in this place, for a _year_ , Stiles couldn’t even _begin_  to imagine what he’d been through.

“Come on, we gotta go,” Stiles said, pushing Derek off him gently. He got back into a crouch and worked at getting the collar off Derek’s neck. It was coated in wolfsbane, and had probably been eating away at his flesh for months. Derek really did look terrible, and Stiles was almost scared to see him in human form.

He selfishly wanted Derek to stay in wolf form as long as possible.

Once he got the collar off and stood, he turned to look at the other cages. All the animals had the same desperate looks in their eyes that Derek did. Like they knew what was coming if they weren’t released, just like Stiles knew what was coming.

And really, it wasn’t his place to leave them here. For all he knew, they were just like Derek. An innocent person who _happened_  to be Supernatural, and was being punished for it.

He moved quickly to the cage with the panther, and it looked so hopeful it kind of broke his heart.

He pointed a finger at it. “You hurt _anyone_  in this house, and you’ll wish I’d left you in this cage, understand? I’m letting you out, and all I ask is that you _wait_  until I get everyone out, and then you can run as far and fast as you can. Deal?”

The panther nodded so enthusiastically that Stiles would’ve believed it was _him_  in there. Stiles nodded back once and got the cage open. Once it was out, he got to work getting the collar off, then turned to let another animal free. The panther just wandered over to Derek, the two of them rubbing against each other.

Stiles made quick work of the animals in the room, and all of them were perfectly obedient, making sure they didn’t run off on him. He didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing.

Once they were all free and devoid of collars, he led the way out of the room quickly. When they got back to the cells, he opened the first one, the girl inside terrified and scrambling back against the wall, but Stiles just hurried into it and held his hand out.

“Come on. Come _on_ , let’s go!”

She didn’t seem to trust him until panther walked into the room. Then she took Stiles’ hand and let him pull her to her feet. They let the guy in the next cell out as well, and then Stiles hesitated at the Kanima’s cell. It almost looked like it was too far gone when he’d passed it earlier, but the second Stiles stopped in front of it this time, it seemed to realize Stiles wasn’t one of the Hunters since it could _see_  him and it lunged for the door, features returning to human.

“Help me! _Help me_!”

“Shut _up_!” Stiles hissed, glancing at the stairs. “I’m gonna let you out, but same deal for you. Touch no one in the house, just _leave_. I’ll handle the Hunters.”

“You don’t know what they did to me.”

“And responding in kind makes you no better than them,” Stiles snapped.

“They made me kill people, man,” he said, voice breaking. “Kids. They made me kill kids.”

“Werewolves,” the other guy whispered from beside Stiles. “They always make us kill the children of monsters.”

“I’ve been forced to kill people, too,” Stiles said, feeling his chest ache at the thought of Allison. “But an eye for an eye isn’t the way to go. I’ll deal with them, but if I let you out, you don’t stop to attack anyone, you just _run_.”

Honestly, none of them looked in any shape to attack anymore. Stiles felt like he could blow on this guy and he’d fall over.

It seemed to take a considerable effort, but he grit his teeth and nodded, backing up a step so Stiles could get the door open. It was just as he’d succeeded that Derek growled and practically every creature he’d released took a few steps back.

Stiles turned, and saw the same hunter who’d been lingering by the alarm standing at the bottom of the stairs, rifle aimed right at him. Derek started to move in front of Stiles, but Stiles just put his hand against his face and forced him back.

“I got this,” Stiles insisted.

He held both hands up in surrender, taking a cautious step forward, eyes locked on the Hunter. “You don’t have to do this,” he told him. “Let me walk out of here with them, and nobody has to get hurt.”

“You think they can protect you?” the guy asked with a scoff. “You think any of them have the ability to help you right now? Look at them, they can’t even help themselves.”

Stiles glanced over his shoulder. All of them had moved back further, shrinking in on themselves. Even the Kanima dude had moved further back into his cell, even though his door was open.

Derek was the only one who hadn’t backed away, but even he was kind of curling in on himself, trying to make himself look smaller.

Stiles turned back to the Hunter. “Honestly, dude, they’re not who you should be worried about right now.”

“You?” The Hunter laughed. “I got a silver wolfsbane coated, mountain-ash infused bullet dipped in holy water in this bad boy. If none of that kills you, the shot to the head sure will.”

“You shouldn’t be so judgmental,” Stiles insisted, then turned to glance at Derek. “I really, _really_  hate doing this, because I can’t hear for hours afterwards, but I’m gonna do it. So once I do, you’ll have to be my ears, okay?”

Derek looked like he didn’t understand, but he dipped his muzzle anyway and Stiles nodded back, then turned to the Hunter.

“Should’ve just stayed in bed, dude.”

Stiles sucked all the sound out of the room, erected a shield, then charged at the Hunter. He fired his gun, and while the bullet left the chamber, it made no sound. It ricocheted off Stiles’ shield, and he tackled the guy around the middle, sending him crashing into the stairs. Still no sound.

Straddling the guy’s chest, Stiles pressed one forearm against his throat, and then his thumb against his forehead and said, “Sleep.”

His lips moved, and the word came out, but there was still no sound. The guy’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he went limp under him. Stiles got to his feet and quickly pulled him away from the stairs, looking around to be sure everything was okay noise-wise.

The others all looked like they were in shock, but he didn’t worry about that. No one seemed to be screaming or anything, so he carefully let sound bleed back out until the spell dissolved. He heard a ringing in his ears and plugged them both with a wince before glancing at Derek.

“Is sound back?” he asked in a whisper, even though he couldn’t hear himself.

Derek was staring at him like he had no idea who he was, but he just dipped his muzzle again and Stiles nodded.

“This guy’s gonna be out for hours,” he said, still speaking quietly. He hoped it was still loud enough to hear, since he was going for overly quiet. Either way, they were all Supernatural, he was sure he was loud enough for them. “So we should go. I can’t hear anything, so you guys have to help me make sure I’m not being loud.”

Derek moved forward, and slowly, the rest of the group followed. Stiles turned back to the stairs and started up them. He jumped when someone grabbed the back of his shirt, but it was just the girl from the cell, looking terrified and clinging to him like she didn’t want her saviour to get too far away from her.

He smiled at her and looked over her shoulder at the group. “If you guys need a safe place to go, you can head to Beacon Hills. The Alpha there is Scott McCall. He’ll keep you safe.”

The non-Kanima guy said something, the girl turning to nod at him, but Stiles motioned his ears.

“Sorry dude, can’t hear you.”

The guy just gave him a thumbs-up instead and Stiles nodded before turning to continue up the stairs. He eased into the corridor, looking around. It was extremely stressful hearing nothing but the ringing in his ears.

He jumped when something brushed against his leg, but it was just Derek, looking up at him. He was pressing into Stiles’ side so much it threatened to make him fall over, but thankfully the girl was on his other side and pushing into him just as much.

They were probably the weirdest group in the world making their way to the door, Stiles casting nervous glances towards the stairs. So far so good.

Kanima guy went for the door immediately and Stiles threw his hand out. He didn’t want to shout for him to wait, so he just made a barrier, Kanima guy walking right into it and cursing, rubbing at his face. The other guy made huge shushing gestures, suggesting he’d been loud.

 _Fuck it._ Stiles already couldn’t hear, what was another few hours of deafness?

He sucked all the sound out of the air again, wincing and rubbing his head. He hated this spell, it always fucked with his balance when he used it too much, which was why he didn’t. But, useful in this instance, especially since he needed to disarm the door.

He looked back at Kanima guy, then motioned the alarm in a, “Dude, seriously” sort of way. Kanima guy just scowled and crossed his arms. Jesus, he was just like Jackson. Maybe that was a thing. All Kanimas had to be asshole jocks.

Stiles moved up to the alarm, and while he acknowledged they could leave without concern given the spell, he wanted to call the cops on these sick fucks. Sure, the police probably wouldn’t see the Supernatural side of things, but there were a lot of bodies and cells in the basement, he was sure something would stick.

But if the alarm went off as soon as he pulled the spell back, they’d know before he could call the cops.

Stiles typed in the code, watching it confirm the alarm was deactivated, then hurried to the door. He pulled it open and led the way out, stopping at the bottom of the stairs and motioning towards the hole he’d made in the fence.

They all bolted for it, Derek coming last out of the house. Stiles shut the door behind him, but Derek didn’t start for the exit until Stiles followed. He hurried to catch up to the others, Derek right beside him, and then let the spell go.

He winced, because two minutes of that spell had him deaf for about two hours. He’d just done it _twice_ , with the second time being _much_  longer, so he was probably going to be deaf for at least a day.

Great.

“Alarm’s not going off, right?” Stiles asked quietly. Derek shook his head and he nodded, relieved.

He made Derek exit first, then crawled out after him. The others were all waiting on the other side, the girl and non-Kanima guy clutching each other. They all looked like they wanted to bolt, but they stared at him like he had all the answers.

“Are you going to Beacon Hills?” he asked. They nodded, and Kanima-guy did, as well. All the animals looked like they were heading there, too.

Whoops. Scott was gonna be pissed. Whatever, they already had a weird ass pack, what was a few more random Supernaturals? Besides, Derek was an Alpha now, maybe they could be Derek’s weird ass pack.

Still, they couldn’t all travel there together, they were kind of obvious. And the Hunters had friends, they might use their one phonecall to tell their little buddies about how their ‘animals’ had all escaped and to hunt them down.

“Shit,” he hissed, reaching into his pocket and checking what he had. “Here. Pin is 2-5-1-2.” He passed his debit card over to the girl, then motioned her and the two boys. “You three stay together. Understand? Don’t get on a plane, too easy to track. Stick to buses and trains. Get to Beacon Hills, California, and find the police station. Speak to Sheriff Stilinski or Deputy Parrish, and _only_  them. Tell them what happened, and they’ll bring you to Scott.” He pulled money out of his wallet next, glad one of his last jobs had been paid in cash. He handed that to the owl, then motioned it and the panther and weird gerbil thing—seriously, _what_  was it?! “You three stay together, too. When you get to Beacon Hills, find the vet clinic. Alan Deaton can help you, he’s a Druid. He’ll know what you are.”

The girl said something, but Stiles winced and motioned his ears. “I can’t hear you.”

She motioned him, as if asking what he was going to do. He pulled out his credit card. “I’m good.” He reached down with his other hand, burying it in Derek’s fur. “I’ll take him. I’ll see you there.”

The girl looked like she didn’t want to leave, but the guy with her tugged and they started running, Kanima-guy keeping up with them. The panther bent down and grabbed the scruff of the gerbil thing’s neck, then bolted in the opposite direction, the owl following along.

Stiles turned to Derek, who was still pressing into his side, and offered him a small smile.

“Time to go, buddy.”

Stiles started jogging, trying to keep a slower pace for Derek, but it was obvious Derek would rather run through the pain and get as far away as he could, because Stiles spent a majority of the run trying to catch up to him.

They made it far enough away that Stiles could call a cab, which had seemed a lot easier back when he could hear. He just found a cab company, called it, quickly gave the address of the closest house and then hung up.

Calling the cops was harder, because Stiles didn’t want the number coming back to him, but he didn’t want to wait too long, either. The sleeping dude would be out for hours, but he worried about someone going to get a glass of water or something and finding their animals had escaped.

Still, he didn’t want anyone to know who he was, so he figured he’d have to wait for the motel. There were payphones down the street, he remembered seeing them by the bus stop.

When the cabbie arrived, Stiles got in and immediately told him he was hearing-impaired and forgot his hearing aids, but that he’d give him a hundred dollar tip if he let his dog into the cab. He seemed amenable to that if the enthusiastic nodding was anything to go by.

Stiles gave him the address for the motel, then asked him to go a bit further to the phones before dropping them off. He paid with his credit card, then climbed out and immediately went to the payphones. He waited until the cabbie drove off, Derek pressed into his side, and then picked up the receiver.

He paused, then held it out to Derek. “Is there a dial tone? Like, is the phone working?”

He nodded, so Stiles put it to his ear and dialled the police. He knew all phones connected no matter what when 9-1-1 was dialled, but he stilled looked to Derek for confirmation. He nodded again, and then nodded a bit faster, as if to say someone had answered.

“Hello,” Stiles said, trying to think of what he wanted them to know. He gave the address of the Hunters’ house and said they needed to send units immediately because he’d heard screaming coming from the basement when he’d been walking his dog by the place.

He hoped none of the cops were in on it, but figured he could get his dad to check up on the status of this case once he got his hearing back.

Stiles hung up, and then bent down in front of Derek, petting him a few times and smiling a little. “I know you’re tired. And probably hungry. And in a lot of pain. But you’re out now. We just need to go a little further, back to that motel over there. Then you can rest, okay?”

Derek just nodded, and Stiles stood, leading the way back to the motel. Derek stuck close to him the whole time, Stiles burying his hands in the fur on his back. When they hit the parking lot, he motioned around back and they went up the stairs, hurrying to the room.

Stiles unlocked the door and ushered Derek inside, then shut it behind him and sighed. He put up a protection spell for good measure, then moved to the mini fridge, opening it and pulling out a pack of sausages.

“I had no idea what to get you, and I didn’t know if you’d be human or wolf, so I just bought you sausages.” He ripped open the packet and Derek was on him instantly, almost eating the plastic with it.

That actually hurt Stiles’ heart, because it showed how starved he must be, but he actually made Derek slow down because he was going to make himself throw up. He held the package out of reach over his head—which was hard to do with a Werewolf trying to knock him over—and held the sausages out one at a time.

Once the package was empty, he tossed it out and went into the bathroom, plugging the tub and turning the water on before looking back at Derek.

“We should get you cleaned up. I know you heal fast, but you look like you’ve had that collar on for a while and I don’t want anything getting infected.”

Derek obediently climbed into the tub once it was partially full and Stiles winced at the injury around his neck. It wasn’t healing, which made sense because of the wolfsbane, but it looked awful. Stiles wished he could help, but that wasn’t his kind of magic. He couldn’t do things like that, unfortunately.

When the tub was decently full, Stiles tried using the soap and shampoo the motel offered to clean Derek up as best he could. It was hard, since it wasn’t a lot of shampoo, but he did what he could.

Halfway through the bath, Derek stiffened and his head shot towards the door. Stiles frowned and looked over, but he saw nothing. When Derek bumped his head against his shoulder, Stiles realized someone was knocking on the door.

“Shit.”

Stiles rinsed his hands, wiping them on his pants, and shut the bathroom door so no one would see Derek. He went to the door and peeked through the peep-hole. It was someone he didn’t recognize, which didn’t bode well.

He put the chain-link on and opened the door just enough to peek out.

“Yeah?”

The guy was wearing a shirt that belonged to the motel, so that was a little more comforting, but it wasn’t until he started to speak that Stiles remembered—again—that he couldn’t hear anything.

“Sorry,” Stiles interrupted. “I have hearing problems and my batteries in my hearing aids ran out. I can’t actually hear you. Is there a problem?”

The guy looked a little surprised, and then lost, like he didn’t know what to do. Then he pulled out his phone and typed up a message. Stiles read it and was instantly relieved.

_‘Someone said they saw you bring a dog in. Dogs aren’t permitted.’_

“Oh, I know. You guys have a sign. I don’t have a dog.” It wasn’t a lie, he didn’t have a dog.

He had a Werewolf.

“Did you want to come in and have a look? I was just running a bath.”

The guy shook his head and waved one hand before typing on his phone again.

_‘I don’t actually care, I’m just required to come by. If you say there’s no dog, it’s all good. Have a good night.’_

“Thanks buddy, you too.”

Stiles watched him walk off, then shut the door and locked it, letting out a slow breath before laughing. He pulled his phone out on his way back to the bathroom, realizing he hadn’t actually touched base with anyone all day. He’d turned it off after his call with Scott.

When he turned it back on, he had countless voicemails and a whole bunch of texts. He texted his dad back first because, whoops. His bad.

He sent off an ‘I’m fine, got Derek’ while going back into the bathroom, and should’ve known better because his phone rang before he’d even finished typing a message to Scott.

“It’s dad,” he told Derek, who was just lying in the tub with suds on his head. “He’s gonna yell at me, which is fine, since I can’t hear right now.” He let out a laugh and answered the phone. “Hey dad. So before you start yelling, you should know I can’t hear anything. I did a spell and, as you know, magic has a price, and the price was my hearing so I can’t hear anything.” He paused. “Literally, if you’re yelling at me, I hear nothing, you’re better off texting. But as you can tell, I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine. And I’ve got Derek. Oh, and uh, I might have sent a bunch of injured Supernaturals your way so if two dudes and a girl who look terrified and lost walk into the station, can you just help them out and bring them to Scott? There might also be a panther and an owl, and some kind of weird gerbil thing, I really don’t know what it was.” He glanced at Derek. “You’re gonna have to help me on what that last one was, I have no idea what it was. Anyway, they were there, too and I couldn’t _leave_  them. Oh, and I called the cops on the Hunters who had them, can you check if anything happened with that? I want them in jail asap.” He gave his dad the address of the house so that he could look into it. “Also, it occurs to me you might have hung up.” He pulled the phone away and saw the call was still connected. “Oh, you didn’t hang up. Okay, well, please check on those Hunters for me. I should have my hearing back in like, ten hours? Maybe eleven, I wasn’t really keeping track of how long the spell was in effect. But I’ll call you when I can hear again, okay? Just text me if you need me. Love you, dad.”

Stiles hung up and then laughed a little. “I love that magic just got me out of being yelled at.”

Derek just gave him a look and Stiles smiled. He reached forward to unplug the tub, but turned the water back on so Derek could stay in there a bit longer.

Stiles sat on the edge of the tub and occasionally tried to comb his fingers through the fur. He had so many bald patches, and all these cuts that weren’t healing, and his neck just looked _so terrible_. It was making his chest ache, and Stiles realized only when Derek looked up at him, seeming concerned, that he had tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said softly. “I’m so fucking sorry, Derek.”

Derek set his chin on Stiles’ closest leg, flattening his ears while looking up at him.

“I didn’t know. Fuck, I wasn’t... I’m sorry. We should’ve done a better job. All of us. We should’ve all kept in touch with you. When it happened, we should’ve known immediately. It shouldn’t have taken me sneezing the roof off my house.”

Derek gave him a weird look at that and Stiles let out a wet laugh, feeling a tear slip free. He reached out to wipe it off his face. “I’ll tell you about it later. When I can hear. We have a long way back home, lots of time for us to talk.”

Stiles let Derek stay in the tub a while longer. He seemed to like it, maybe because the warm water was helping ease his sore muscles. Stiles emptied and refilled the tub two more times before Derek finally stood and looked ready to get out.

Stiles actually had to help him out of the tub. He hated how weak he was, but knew it would take time for him to heal. Being able to see Derek’s ribs was concerning, and he was again selfishly thankful that Derek was in wolf form.

He used one of the towels to dry him off, and then they headed back into the bedroom.

“I have clothes if you want to turn human again,” Stiles said, and was secretly glad when Derek shook his head. “I guess turning right now would hurt, huh? Well, whenever you feel comfortable, let me know. I have clothes that’ll fit you.”

Stiles turned down the bed, Derek jumping up onto it. He must’ve made some kind of noise of pain, because he stared at Stiles for a long moment, as if waiting to see if he’d heard or not. Obviously he hadn’t, but the look was enough. It just made Stiles’ chest clench and he shut off the light, returning to the bed and pulling the covers up.

Derek stayed beneath them, resting his head on Stiles’ stomach. Stiles reached under the blanket and rested his hand on his head.

“You’re okay, Derek. I’ve got you, and we’re gonna get you home. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

* * *

That first night was hard, because Derek seemed to have a lot of nightmares, but Stiles didn’t know about them until Derek moved. He couldn’t hear him at all, and he felt awful about it, because he’d have liked to wake him before they took hold. He ended up spending the last part of the night curled around Derek, hugging him tightly. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it seemed to help, and that was the important thing.

Derek stayed in wolf form when they left the next day. Stiles’ hearing wasn’t back entirely, but the ringing had diminished and he could hear enough that it just sounded like he had cotton balls in his ears. He told Derek to stay in the room while he went to pay, because he was worried about leaving him alone out in the open.

Once he’d paid, he went back up to the room to let him out and they bolted before anyone noticed he’d had a ‘dog’ in his room.

Stiles both wished and didn’t wish for Derek to turn human again. It was hard doing things with a wolf around, because he wasn’t allowed to go into stores or coffee shops, but Stiles kept feeling anxious leaving him outside.

Eventually, he just bent down and rubbed his hands all over him again, putting another tracking spell on him, then added a protection spell and told him to stand off to the side and look mean because nobody would be able to touch him. Literally, if someone reached down to pet him, they would hit an invisible barrier and that would be weird.

Stiles went into a convenience store to buy a bunch of real food as well as snacks, and also grabbed some bottles of water. He wanted to head home now, but until Derek felt comfortable turning human again, they wouldn’t be able to take a bus or the train. So for now, they could just walk. It would probably do Derek some good, anyway. Get some muscles building, be out in the fresh air.

He rushed back outside once he was done, relieved to see Derek right where he’d left him. They went to eat in an alley, since Stiles didn’t want to get judged for giving a dog human food. Derek ate it all down so fast Stiles was once again worried he’d be sick, but he kept his food down, which was good.

By the time they were on their way, heading for the highway, Stiles’ hearing was fully back and he sighed, looking at his phone.

“I’m gonna call dad,” he told Derek. “I’m gonna get yelled at.”

Derek just pressed into his side, Stiles burying his free hand in his fur, and dialled his father.

_“Stiles? Hello?”_

“Hey dad.”

 _“What were you thinking?!”_ he shouted instantly, Stiles wincing. _“Are you okay? Stiles, tell me you’re okay.”_

“I’m fine, dad. I told you yesterday. There’s this noise cancelling spell I can do, but it makes me lose my hearing for a while. Cole says it’s one we should avoid, because he knows someone who lost it permanently, but I kind of needed to cancel out some noise.”

_“But you can hear? You’re okay?”_

“Yeah, dad. I’m okay. And I found Derek.”

_“How’s he doing? You were kind of all over the place on the phone last night, I didn’t really understand much of it.”_

Stiles gave him the cliffnotes of what had gone on, explaining the Hunters’ playroom of horrors in the basement. His dad confirmed he spoke to someone in Montana about it, and that there had been arrests and an investigation, so Stiles was happy about that. Didn’t mean much when people had money, but at least it was a start.

It was actually while they were walking that something occurred to Stiles and he realized Montana wasn’t that far off from California. He couldn’t take Derek on a plane, or a train, or a bus, but...

“Hey, do you think someone can come get us?” Stiles asked. “I mean, can someone drive out here and meet us and bring us home?”

 _“Why would you need that?”_ his dad asked.

Right. He didn’t know.

“Derek’s, uh... well, remember how I said there was a panther and an owl and some weird giant gerbil thing? Yeah, there was also a wolf. He was hurt pretty bad. I think—he might stay like that, you know, for a while. So I can’t really bring him on transportation.”

_“I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I can give Parrish some time off, send him out your way.”_

“Thanks dad.”

_“Stiles?”_

“Yeah dad?”

_“I’m pissed beyond all reason at you, but I’m proud of you. And I’m glad you’re okay.”_

“Thanks. I’ll talk to you again soon, okay?”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Stiles called Scott next, but kept the conversation short. They were in a weird spot right now, because of the whole Emissary/mate thing going on with Derek, but they were still friends. They just didn’t talk pack business and focussed on the matter at hand.

Stiles told him about the people coming, and he promised he’d keep them safe until Stiles got back. He thanked him, then they hung up.

The rest of the time they were walking, Stiles spoke to Derek. He explained what he meant about the sneeze blowing the roof off the house, and gave him a rundown on the past year. He explained most of his Sorcerer and Druid stuff, and kind of hedged around the whole Emissary thing, but didn’t bring up the mates thing at all.

He wasn’t sure how to broach that particular topic, so it was best for them to have that conversation when Derek was, well, _human_.

They stopped in the next town and stayed at a higher end hotel so that Stiles could bring Derek in. Apparently the more expensive the hotel, the more likely dogs were allowed. He just had to pay a pet deposit, which was fine, since Derek wasn’t a pet and could behave himself.

Stiles did two jobs while he was there in that one day, which helped pay for the hotel, and then some. The place also had a kind of internet café off the lobby, so he went down there with Derek to reply to some emails, as well as check his bank account.

The girl and two guys had obviously gotten bus tickets to Beacon Hills, because he saw a few charges from bus depots. There was the odd charge here or there for stores, likely food and clothing, but for the most part, it was bus tickets.

They seemed to be moving a lot faster, which made sense since Stiles had stopped to spend the night in his motel and then he and Derek had been walking all day. He felt bad these three didn’t get that luxury, but realistically, they _could_  have stopped somewhere, they probably just didn’t want to.

He also felt bad about the owl, panther, and gerbil thing. He’d given them a lot of money, but they’d basically have to make the whole trip on foot. Then again, he didn’t think they’d use any of the money. If Derek was in too much pain to turn back, they probably all were, too.

“Actually, now that I’m here.” Stiles went to Google and typed in ‘weird looking giant gerbil.’

He turned to glare at Derek when he heard him huff a laugh, told him to shut up, and started looking at all the pictures.

Apparently the weird gerbil thing was called a Capybara. He’d never heard of it, but it was kind of cute. Looked a little like a less prickly porcupine.

Stiles ordered room service for dinner, showing Derek the menu so he could choose something he actually wanted. The woman on the other end had asked what kind of dog food his ‘dog’ would like, but Stiles insisted he had it covered and she let it go. She probably thought he was one of those owners who treated their pet like a person.

To be fair, Derek _was_  a person.

They had dinner, then went to bed, Stiles able to wake Derek up during any nightmares this time since he could hear him whining in his sleep.

Around seven, Derek seemed too restless to go back to sleep, so Stiles just called for breakfast, they ate, and then they left. They were already two hours into their walk when his dad called to say Parrish was going to come and meet them halfway. Stiles was thankful, because he just wanted to get Derek _home_.

It took two days for Parrish to finally reach them. He wasn’t able to hide the startled look on his face when he saw how terrible Derek looked, but he at least said it was good to see him and opened the back door of the truck.

Stiles hadn’t even known Parrish drove a truck, but it kind of suited him.

He sat in the back seat with Derek, Parrish catching him up on everything that had been happening.

Apparently the girl and two guys had shown up that morning—Stiles had heard because his dad texted him, and had also apparently told Parrish. They were at the sheriff’s place getting some food and rest, and presumably also showers.

It seemed like his dad had spent longer on the phone with Parrish about it, because Parrish knew a lot more than Stiles did. Or maybe it was just that the sheriff had texted Stiles as soon as they’d shown up, and had just called Parrish later when he actually had more details.

The girl’s name was Georgia, and she was a Chimera. Her parents were killed in a car accident when she was nineteen, and when she’d answered an ad about experiments for a few extra dollars, she found herself with Hunters and had been there for just over eight months.

The Kanima was named Kyle, he was twenty-six, and his dad had sold him off when his mother died because he didn’t want a ‘monster’ for a son. He’d been with the hunters the longest, since he was seventeen. It explained why he was the most hostile, though Stiles had to admire his character because he hadn’t broken.

The last guy was called Alex, he was a Werewolf, and he’d been there for just over two years. To Stiles’ surprise, he was only fifteen, though hadn’t looked it at all. He was a bitten wolf, and had run away from home. Apparently when his dad had said he’d try and find his parents, Alex had freaked so bad Scott had been forced to intervene. That suggested problems at home, and it eventually came out that his parents were Hunters.

Stiles wished he could laugh at the irony, but he couldn’t, because it was awful to realize that some Hunters were so against Supernaturals that this fucking _kid_  had been forced to run away of he’d have had to ‘follow the code’ and kill himself for being a Werewolf.

It was weird to Stiles when he thought about what he’d done. He’d gone out looking for Derek, and had ended up saving six other people along with him. People who were being punished and tortured just because they were different.

Sure, some Supernatural creatures were bad, but most of them weren’t. Most of them were just monsters because that was what they had been turned into, not because it was what they _were_.

Just like Werewolves. People acted like they were terrible, horrible things, but most of the ones Stiles had ever met were actually just trying to live normal lives. Sure, there were exceptions, like the Alpha pack, but even _they_  weren’t all bad.

Ethan had turned out okay. And sure, while Peter _had_  been a homicidal maniac at first, he was also a little crazy, what with being burned alive and all that.

And really, weren’t they _all_  a little grey to begin with? Humans, Hunters, Supernaturals all around?

There were people like Chris, who fought for what they thought was right until they were shown how wrong the system was. There were people like Cole, who’d lost some of his humanity, tried to make a profit no matter who got hurt, but had a line he would never cross. There were people like Kate, who just hated anything different and wanted to see the world burn.

People like Scott, who wanted to help and protect. People like his dad, who just did the right thing _because_  it was the right thing.

People like Derek, who just wanted to be left alone, who just wanted to _live_.

Derek let out a whine and Stiles glanced down at him. He had his head on Stiles’ thigh, and Stiles was running one hand over his head. He smiled, poking his nose.

“I’m okay. Just thinking.”

He reached back to pull at some of Derek’s fur by his neck, checking the injury there. It had slowly started to heal his first day out, but the wound was deep, and the wolfsbane had obviously screwed up his healing. It looked better, less red and raw, but still not great.

They stopped that night just past the border into Idaho. They had to sneak Derek into a room again, but this motel didn’t seem to care as much, if the lady at the desk was anything to go by. They got two beds, and Stiles shared with Derek again, hugging him tightly to his chest while he slept so that Derek knew he wasn’t alone.

Halfway through their drive the next day, Derek in the back with Stiles again and Parrish humming along to the radio, Derek’s head suddenly jerked up and he turned and almost headbutted the window.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked, Parrish glancing in the rearview mirror.

Derek turned to him and pawed at the door.

“Seriously, words would be useful,” Stiles said with a sigh, then told Parrish to pull over.

He did so, though unhappily since they were on a highway. Stiles opened the door and Derek leapt out, then howled. Stiles winced, the sound of it jarring, but he understood why he’d done it a moment later.

Something black caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, and when Stiles squinted, he could see a panther out in the trees a ways off the highway.

“Oh,” he said, letting out an awkward laugh. “So, Parrish, don’t freak out.”

“Why do I feel like I’m gonna freak out?” he asked with a sigh.

“We’re about to have company.”

Stiles kept the back door open, but climbed into the front over the partition. He didn’t know if the panther and wolf would fit comfortably in the back, and when he thought about it, the owl and capybara were both also pretty big, but they’d make do.

They’d cram in for now, since highway and all. When they could get somewhere more secluded, they could figure out a comfortable seating arrangement for everyone.

“You have _got_  to be kidding me,” Parrish insisted, locking his door, like he thought that would help when one of the back doors was wide open.

The panther came racing out of the trees, Derek standing a bit off to the side of the door. It was less weird having a huge ‘dog’ visible. A panther was a bit harder to explain away.

The whole truck shook when the panther leapt into the back seat. Stiles started slightly when its head poked between the two front seats and nuzzled the side of his face.

“Oh. Hi. Hello.” He pet it awkwardly. Petting Derek was fine, he _knew_  Derek. He supposed the panther just liked him because he’d let it go, not to mention it seemed on good terms with Derek.

Actually, now he worried maybe the panther and Derek were like, a thing. He tried not to let that bother him too much, but _really_  wanted human Derek back so they could have a real conversation.

The owl and capybara were slower coming, and Derek had to help the capybara into the back, then jumped back in himself.

“If I’d known my truck would turn into a zoo when I agreed to help your dad, I’d have said no,” Parrish informed him, letting out a sputter when one of the owl’s wings hit him in the face by accident.

“When I get my next job, I’ll pay you for your troubles,” Stiles insisted, reaching back awkwardly and getting the door shut. “Pull off when we’re somewhere more secluded and we can reorganize.”

“You realize we can’t stay in a motel now, right?”

“We can take turns sleeping and driving. We’re not too far out, are we?”

Parrish checked the GPS. “About eleven hours.”

“We can do it,” Stiles insisted.

Parrish continued to grumble, but Stiles just laughed and turned around to check on the others. The panther was licking repeatedly at Derek’s head, like it was grooming him. He looked so annoyed by it that Stiles couldn’t help laughing. That just earned him a glare.

The capybara looked a little crushed, so Stiles actually brought it over onto his lap. It was weird, knowing it was a person, because it was _small_ , but he didn’t question it. He kept reminding himself he sneezed the roof off his house and his best friend was a Werewolf, and apparently his mate was a Werewolf who could turn _into_  a wolf.

Someone turning into a capybara? Or an owl? Sure? Why not?

They didn’t pull over for another two hours, Derek and the panther jumping out immediately and stretching their legs. Clearly it was uncomfortable for them, but there wasn’t much they could do about that.

Parrish stared at his truck for a long while, then looked at Derek. “Are you okay riding in the back? We can’t really put the panther back there, but if we have the panther in the back seat with the owl, and the capybara with Stiles in the front, they won’t be as visible. You look like a dog, having you in the back of the truck isn’t weird.”

Derek just shrugged, so they went with that. It sucked, because it meant he was alone back there, with wind blowing in his face and hard metal under him, but Parrish wrapped a tarp around him and said to just bark or something if he needed a break.

The next time they stopped was for food, and then gas, and then Parrish and Stiles switched spots. Parrish passed out almost instantly, the capybara chilling on his lap with both front paws on the dash so it could see out the windshield. Stiles found that kind of cute and wondered if maybe it was a kid. Then he realized he hoped it wasn’t, because hearing about Alex had hurt enough.

They made it back to Beacon Hills at half past four in the morning. Stiles drove them to Derek’s loft, mostly because of the panther. He woke Parrish up so he could drive himself home, and said he’d just stay at Derek’s until the morning.

There were a lot of things to figure out.

* * *

“He’s really cute.”

“He’s all right.”

“You just don’t have taste.”

“My taste is fine, he’s just all right. Besides, he belongs to Derek, so I don’t know why you’re staring so hard.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t touch. Besides, I’m interested to know more about that Parrish guy.”

“Now _he_  was cute.”

“I saw him first.”

“You got in the _car_  first, that doesn’t count.”

It took a long time for Stiles’ brain to figure out what was going on. He was more than happy to keep sleeping, hugging his pillow and drooling on the mattress. But that was when he realized he wasn’t at home, he was at Derek’s. And it wasn’t his pillow he was hugging, it was a wolf.

And he was drooling on said wolf.

Stiles jerked upright, opening bleary eyes and turning towards the voices before he let out a shout and almost fell backwards off the bed.

“He sure is energetic.”

“Probably really good in bed.”

“I suppose Derek can let us know.”

“Ha!” Stiles shouted, covering his eyes with both hands. “Oh God, you are both _very_  naked.”

“That tends to happen when you can turn into an animal.”

“There are literally clothes _everywhere_ ,” Stiles insisted, eyes clenched shut and motioning towards the dresser. “Take some! Just—clothes! Please!”

“We didn’t want to be rude and go rifling through Derek’s things.”

“Be rude!”

Stiles heard them laughing and groaned, turning to bury his face into Derek’s fur. Then he frowned and sat up, opening his eyes and looking down. Derek was still lying on the bed, but he was awake and watching the two women get dressed. He turned to look at Stiles when he saw him staring at him.

“Were you just letting me use you as a pillow?” Stiles asked uncertainly. “Or are you... not ready to turn back?”

“Oh honey, he’s gonna take a while,” one of the women said. Stiles jerked away when she fell down right beside him, but she was, thankfully, clothed now. Wearing a pair of Derek’s boxers and an oversized shirt. She was the one who’d called him cute.

Her hair was long, almost to her lower back, and pitch black. Her cheekbones were so high they would make models jealous, and her eyes were a deep golden brown. She had bad abrasions on her neck, probably from the collar, but otherwise she looked good. Thin, just like Derek, but good.

“I’m Liz. That’s Vanessa.” She motioned the other girl.

Stiles turned to glance at the other girl nervously, but she was thankfully also clothed, having pulled on a pair of sweats and a tank top. Her hair was short, curly, and a kind of reddish colour. She kind of looked a bit like a pixie, with a pointed nose and bright eyes. She had the same abrasions around her neck as Liz did.

“Capybara,” he guessed, pointing at Vanessa, then at Liz. “Panther?”

“Ding ding.” Liz smiled. “And you’re Stiles, right? Derek used to talk about you all the time.”

Derek let out a huff from behind him, but Liz just smiled pleasantly and ruffled Stiles’ hair before getting to her feet.

“Come on. Max was left in charge of cooking and that guy will eat _anything_ , so it’s best we keep close supervision or we’ll end up with rats in our oatmeal.”

She and Vanessa headed for the stairs, another voice calling, “I heard that!” from downstairs.

“You were _meant_  to hear it,” Liz insisted, disappearing from sight.

Stiles turned back to Derek who just let out another huff. When he saw Stiles looking, he rolled his eyes dramatically, then stood, stretched, and hopped off the bed. He trotted to the stairs, then turned, as if waiting for Stiles to join him.

He crawled off the bed, combing his hand through his hair a few times while yawning, and padded towards the stairs. Then he paused.

“Is Max wearing clothes?” he asked Derek.

“He is not,” Vanessa called from downstairs.

“Whatever, we’re both men,” Max replied.

Stiles detoured to grab some sweats and then followed Derek down the stairs.

Max was the only one he wouldn’t have guessed was the animal he’d seen if he didn’t already know it. The owl had been snow white with huge blue eyes. Max was African-American, with a buzzed head, dark chocolate eyes, and a smile that would have girls swooning.

He also seemed to be the oldest out of all of them, even older than Derek. Maybe in his late thirties. His neck had the same abrasions as the girls. Stiles supposed Derek’s would when he turned human, too.

Stiles handed over the sweats and Max offered him a blinding smile, taking them and then holding his other hand out. Stiles took it, expecting a handshake, and instead found himself pulled into a bone-crushing hug.

“Oh. Okay. We’re hugging.”

“You let us out,” he said, tightening his hold. “ _Thank you_.”

“I mean, I couldn’t really leave you there after what I saw,” Stiles insisted quietly.

“But you could have,” Vanessa said. “And you didn’t. So we owe you.”

“You were there for Derek, not the rest of us.” Liz let out a small laugh. “And now you have six extra Supernaturals in your town I’m sure you didn’t account for.”

“Eh,” Stiles shrugged. “We’re used to it.”

Max finally released him and went back to whatever he was making. It looked like porridge, and it occurred to Stiles that Derek probably didn’t really have any food in the loft, seeing as he’d been gone for so long.

Stiles was actually concerned the porridge might be expired.

He turned to glance at Derek while Liz tried to stick her finger into whatever was being made. Derek just looked back and rolled his eyes again. Stiles buried his hand in his fur, frowned, then looked back at Liz.

“You said he wouldn’t turn back any time soon. Why?”

The kitchen went extremely silent, and Stiles momentarily thought maybe he’d accidentally cast a noise cancelling spell, but then realized the others had just frozen.

Liz moved over to bend down in front of Derek, bringing both hands up under his chin and rubbing at his throat, a small, sad smile on her face.

“They did a lot of things to us in that place,” she said quietly. “You must look at us and think we’re strange, that we’re too happy for what we just went through. But it’s different when you’re an animal. You can compartmentalize. Everything feels kind of... less. Now that we’re human again, it’s going to hit us, and hit us hard. And in the worst way, and at the worst time. But when it comes to changing back, I’ve been a panther for so long I was almost forgetting what being human was like.” She kept one hand by Derek’s face, and brought the other up to scratch at one of his ears.

“So it’s easier to stay a wolf?” Stiles asked uncertainly.

“No,” she said, glancing up at Stiles. “It’s because of what they did to him.”

“None of us had it easy,” Vanessa said from her spot beside Max. “We all had our fair share of pain in that place, but it was all about knowledge for those sick Hunters. So they did different things to all of us.”

Stiles didn’t want to know. He really didn’t. But he still found himself saying, “Like what?”

Liz sighed, cradling Derek’s wolf face in both hands, then kissed his head before standing and looking at Stiles.

“They broke his arms and legs, and then made him shift back and forth for hours.”

Stiles was going to be sick. He was going to be super sick right here and now.

Except he couldn’t move. He just stood there, staring at Liz, and she looked around slowly when the room began to shake.

Because control wasn’t a thing he had right now. Because control came with calm and patience and AlphaBetaOmega and Stiles couldn’t right now. He couldn’t.

“What is happening?” Vanessa asked nervously.

“Stiles?” Liz reached for him but he took two steps back, one fist against his mouth to keep the vomit at bay and the other out towards her, warding her off.

Vanessa let out a shout when the ground shook and they all lost their footing. Max quickly turned off the stove and Stiles inched back towards a corner, closing his eyes.

Alpha. Beta. Omega.

_They broke his arms and legs, and then made him shift back and forth for hours._

Alpha. Beta. Omega.

_They broke his arms and legs—_

_Alpha. Beta. Omega._

“Derek,” Liz said nervously, but her voice sounded far away. Stiles could hear the foundation cracking, and this building was old. This was bad, he was going to bring the whole thing down.

“Alpha. Beta. Omega,” he grit out, crouching in the corner and clenching his eyes shut tighter. Calm. He had to regain control.

He felt something wet bump against his arm, and when he opened his eyes, Derek was there, nudging at him and trying to get him to unfold himself. Stiles immediately wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in his neck, fingers clenched in his fur.

He was going to have a panic attack. Not even a magical one, a normal one.

All this time, all those _months_  where the pack just continued living on like nothing was wrong, like the world was perfect, and their little town was safe. All the days Stiles had been out in Cole’s field, practising magic, making money while wandering around the country looking for Derek.

All that time, Derek and these other people had been locked up in a basement, being hurt, being fucking _tortured_. Having their bones broken and being ordered to shift again and again and Stiles couldn’t. He fucking _couldn’t_.

“I’m sorry,” he insisted, feeling tears forming. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Derek. I didn’t— I should’ve been faster. I should’ve done something sooner. I never should’ve let it get this far. I should’ve known the _second_  you were taken. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor...” Stiles couldn’t speak anymore because he was crying.

Because this was his fault. He was the one who’d been keeping track of the pack, he was the one who texted with Derek. He should’ve been better, should’ve kept up with him more often. He should’ve made more of an effort to keep tabs on everyone so that this never would’ve happened.

He felt someone hugging him from the side, a hand in his hair, brushing it back off his forehead.

“Oh, sweetie,” Liz said softly. “It’s okay. I promise you. You came. Stiles, you _came_. Nothing else matters but that.”

Stiles couldn’t stop crying.

* * *

The rest of his day didn’t get any less emotional. The others seemed to clue in that telling Stiles anything about what had happened to them or Derek was a bad idea, so they steered away from that and mostly just talked about themselves.

Apparently Derek and the other girl from the cell, Georgia, were the two who’d spent the shortest amount of time there. Derek had _only_  been there for one year, compared to the rest of them. Max and Liz had both been there for four, and Vanessa had been there for five.

These Hunters apparently had a system. They went after the bad monsters, but if they found a kind monster, they took it in under the guise of helping them, and then immediately locked them away and used them for experiments to learn how to better kill their kind.

Derek had actually been looking for Liz because her friends had reported her missing, and he’d been around at the time. They asked for his help, because they knew what he was, and he’d agreed. He’d gotten caught by the Hunters while trying to figure out how to get Liz out of the house.

That had happened the same day Stiles had sneezed.

The Hunters usually alternated between caging the shifters and keeping them in cells, but apparently they really liked Derek as a wolf because it let them torture him more by taking him outside and pretending he was a dog, where people saw him and did nothing to help him.

Also, apparently one of the guys hated his ‘pretty face’ and didn’t want to look at it.

They didn’t tell Stiles how many had died in the space of time they were there, but he could tell it had been a lot. Vanessa cried a lot while talking about it, because she’d been there a long time, and apparently she had made and lost a lot of friends.

But the seven of them always had each other. They always tried to help each other, keep each other’s hopes up. They all insisted to each other that someone would look for them, someone would save them.

Liz admitted Derek used to talk about Stiles all the time, and that he was convinced he would be the one to find him. And he was, in the end, but Stiles still cried and had another small panic attack when he realized how long Derek had been forced to wait for him.

But Liz just kept insisting, “You _came_ , Stiles. Nobody else ever came for us. But you came. You got us out.”

His dad dropped by in the afternoon with Georgia, Kyle and Alex. There were a lot of tears when that happened, most of them still unable to believe they were finally out. Kyle seemed to be the most out of sorts. He’d been there for _nine years_ , used as a weapon and probably the best kept of all of them because he was like a weaponized little _pet_  to them. He didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, because he didn’t remember how to be a functioning member of society.

“I suppose we should talk,” the sheriff said, sitting on the end of Derek’s couch. Stiles was at the opposite end, with Derek in the middle, his head on Stiles’ lap. “About how to proceed.”

“Are you making us leave?” Georgia asked, skin paling.

“No,” the sheriff said quickly. “No, no. No one is—no one is telling anyone to leave. But most of you have been reported missing, and that’s something we need to address. And I know three of you have met the territory’s Alpha, but—”

“Derek is the Alpha,” Liz interrupted.

“Yeah, this territory’s Alpha is kind of a weenie, Derek can totally take him,” Kyle said to her.

“Hey,” Stiles insisted with a frown. “That’s my best friend you’re calling a weenie. And he’s _not_  a weenie, he’s a great Alpha!”

Kyle made a debatable sound and he was _so_  like Jackson then that Stiles kind of wanted to hit him.

“Okay,” Stiles said with a huff. “So Derek _was_  the Alpha, but then he gave that up to save his sister, and my best friend is a True Alpha, so he kind of... took over the pack. And then Derek left, so...” He frowned. “How did he become an Alpha again, anyway?”

Vanessa and Liz shared a look, but it was Max who answered. “If we tell you, are you gonna bring the whole building down?”

“Should I maybe _not_  know?” Stiles asked uncertainly.

“It’s not... terrible,” Liz said slowly. “It’s just... Okay, I’m gonna go for it, just try to keep the building in one piece?”

Stiles hoped it wasn’t as bad as breaking all of Derek’s bones and making him shift, because he still hadn’t really fully recovered from that.

“They did this thing. With the wolves. They’d pump them full of a special kind of wolfsbane that makes them hallucinate, and then throw them in a cage together.” She winced. “Kind of like Werewolf dog fighting, I guess.”

“Derek kept trying to escape when he was still in human form,” Max said. “They got tired of it, and they didn’t know he was a shifter yet, so they doped him up and threw him into a cell with their favourite wolf, a guy named Logan. They were sure Logan would tear him apart, but Derek ended up winning.”

“Logan was an asshole,” Kyle muttered. “He deserved what he got.”

“Kyle,” Vanessa reprimanded.

“What?” He glared at her. “How many of _us_  has he killed to save his own skin? I’m _glad_  Derek took him out. Served him right.”

“They were pretty mad about it,” Liz finished off quietly. “Logan was their favourite, second only to Kyle. He was an Alpha, so when Derek killed him...”

“He became an Alpha,” Stiles finished. Liz nodded.

“Can I ask what you are?” the sheriff asked, motioning Max, Vanessa and Liz.

“We’re Weres,” Max said. “We come in all shapes and sizes. Wereowl.”

“Werepanther,” Liz said, raising her hand.

Vanessa sighed and looked at the ceiling. “Werecapybara.”

Kyle snorted a laugh from behind her and she turned to punch him. The sheriff cast a confused look at Stiles, who just shrugged. He knew what Liz had said before was true, that they _were_  all strangely okay with all this, but he also knew that it would hit them eventually. They seemed to all still be in a bit of shock over being out, and they’d been running on adrenaline for days, now.

He knew that, like Liz said, once it hit, it would hit _hard_.

“We still need to talk about all of this,” the sheriff said, interrupting the others, who seemed to have gotten distracted watching Kyle and Vanessa slap at each other like children. “Scott said you can join his pack, but—”

“We’re good with being in Derek’s,” Liz interrupted again. “We need an Alpha, and we know him. And his Emissary let us out, so I’m good with this pack right there.” She motioned Stiles and Derek.

The others all murmured their agreement and his dad gave him a look. Stiles shrugged helplessly, thinking he wanted him to argue, but then realized what the look was for when he spoke.

“Emissary, huh?”

“Oh. Yeah, I might have forgotten to tell you that part,” Stiles said.

“So all that training with Deaton, it was to become an Emissary?”

“Technically it was to become _Derek’s_  Emissary, specifically. He was uh, grooming me to be Scott’s but I kind of... well, things happened and that went out the window.” Stiles did the jazz hands. “Surprise?”

His father sighed and rubbed his face, muttered that he was too old for this, then focussed on Derek. “Can two Alphas live in the same territory?”

Derek growled at that a little.

“Technically,” Stiles said slowly, “this is sort of Derek’s territory? I mean, it’s Hale land.”

His dad gave him another look. “You planning on chasing Scott out?”

“No,” Stiles insisted. “I’m just saying. In theory, Scott’s on Derek’s land, so he has to be the one to play nice. Derek will play nice.”

Derek huffed in his lap and Stiles flicked his head without looking at him. His dad looked sceptical but Stiles rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine. We will handle it. Anything else?”

Apparently, there was a _lot_  else, because he’d forgotten this entire conversation had been prefaced with “Most of you have been reported missing.”

The adults were easier, because it was just a matter of calling to say they weren’t dead, and figuring out how to pay off debts and get their stuff since none of them wanted to go back home for fear of being found, and pretty much all of them wanted to stay in Beacon Hills with Derek.

The problems were moreso Alex and Georgia. Kyle had been sold off while still a minor, so nobody was missing him, and the sheriff dutifully didn’t listen while Stiles explained that Chris could probably get him some fake papers so he could get a license and open a bank account and everything.

Georgia, while nineteen, had been taken while in a lot of debt. She honestly wasn’t sure if she had anything left back home. Stiles figured he could ask Cole for a favour money-wise and he’d spot him when he got some more jobs. Derek’s huff suggested he had ideas on how to get money, which made sense, since Derek seemed to have a lot of it.

And Alex was the kicker. Because he was fifteen, and his father couldn’t legally _not_  report a runaway to his parents. Though he _did_  have a solution, even if Alex freaked out about it.

“Chris is willing to take you in,” the sheriff said. “He’s willing to drive to your parents with papers to legally adopt you. That way they know you’re safe, but you don’t have to go back.”

“Are you _sure_  they would follow the code on you?” Stiles asked. “You’re their son.”

“Yeah, and so was my brother,” he said coldly.

Stiles decided to stay out of the conversation after that comment.

“It won’t be that simple,” Alex said to his dad. “Your friend can’t just drive up, they’re not gonna sign papers for him just because he asks. They’re Hunters, they’ll just demand I be returned.”

The sheriff shifted uncomfortably. “Well, there’s a reason Stiles and I have been avoiding his last name.” He winced. “His name is Chris Argent.”

That got an immediate reaction from everyone in the room. Because everyone knew the Argents, and Stiles could see they were ready to bolt. Derek raised his head and let out something close enough to a bark, it was kind of cute. It got them all to at least hold their ground while the sheriff quickly explained Chris had his own code, and he wasn’t a threat to anyone.

Stiles piped in to comment on Isaac, and even called him—waking him up, sorry Isaac—so he could tell them all and convince Alex that Chris was a _different_  Argent. If Chris Argent drove up to Alex’s house and asked his parents to sign papers, they would do it because they probably thought he would be no different from them and make Alex end his own life.

All in all, not a great day for anyone. Very emotional, very draining, and very difficult.

Now that they were all together, they wanted to stay with Derek at the loft. The sheriff insisted that was ridiculous, and that they wouldn’t all comfortably fit there, but none of them were willing to leave so he gave up and said he’d go make arrangements for the various things that needed doing.

Stiles ended up leaving with him, but only so he could get the Jeep and buy groceries for the loft, since Derek didn’t have any. Liz said she’d go with him if he came back to pick her up, so he did, bringing her to the store and letting her go through the aisles and excitedly buy things. He felt bad seeing how excited she got over cookies.

Fucking _cookies_.

But then, she probably hadn’t had a cookie in years, so he just told her to get whatever she wanted. She didn’t, but he figured she was trying to be conscious of his finances, which she didn’t need to bother about since being a Sorcerer had been good to him financially.

He ended up buying a cake, though. He figured the whole pack would like cake.

Scott was waiting for him at the building when he showed up. Liz was instantly defensive, but Stiles just sent her up with the groceries and moved off to one side with Scott, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Your dad said they were staying.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. If, uh, that’s okay?”

Scott just nodded. “Yeah, it’s fine. Derek was, you know, he was here first.”

Stiles winced, rocking on his feet. “Dad, uh, told you about that, huh?”

“He reminded me that this was Derek’s territory before it was mine. It’s just... hard.” Scott shrugged. “We’re territorial. So, losing it is hard for me, but I get it. And losing you.”

“Scott, you aren’t losing me,” Stiles insisted. “Just because I’m Derek’s, you know, everything, doesn’t mean I’m not still gonna hang out with you.” He slapped him in the arm and smiled. “You’re my best friend. Sharing is caring. I can be in both packs.”

“Right.” Scott managed to force a smile, but Stiles knew he was worried about it. “I just don’t want this to end. Us. You and me.”

“It won’t. We’re brothers, man.” He slapped him again. “We’re okay, Scott.”

“Okay.” Scott glanced towards the door. “Is it a bad idea to come up?”

“Naw, man.” Stiles wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “You should meet the others, anyway. They’re super nice, it’ll be great.”

By the end of the night, Stiles was pretty sure Vanessa and Scott were going to be a thing _real_  quick, which probably worked out for the best, since Liz had already called dibs on Parrish.

* * *

“So you need to do something,” Liz informed Stiles.

He stared at her, half-chewed food in his mouth, and having absolutely no idea how she’d gotten into his house.

Because that was where he was, sitting at his kitchen table, eating a sandwich for lunch. He was fairly certain she hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“I really need to upgrade the security on this place,” he said to himself.

“Funny. Cute.” Liz fell into the seat across from him. “You need to do something.”

“About what?” Stiles asked, continuing to chew.

“Derek.”

Stiles’ chewing ceased and he put his sandwich down, slapping his hands together. “You said he would change back when he was ready.”

“Yeah, that was a month ago. That’s not really gonna fly anymore. He needs to change back before he can’t anymore.”

Stiles felt panic rising. “Is that–is that a thing that can happen?”

“Fuck if I know, but that guy’s luck is so shit, if it was gonna happen, it’d happen to him.”

It was sad that someone who didn’t know Derek as intimately as Stiles did still knew he had the worst luck in the world.

“And what makes you think he’s going to turn back because I ask him to?”

“Don’t _ask_  him,” she insisted, rolling her eyes. “He’s stubborn as a mule, if you ask him to, he’ll just stare at you and roll over for a belly rub.”

Actually, it was adorable Derek liked belly rubs, but maybe that was because the wolf was taking over and wow, yeah, Derek needed to be human again.

“Well how am I supposed to turn him human again?” he asked with a sigh.

“I don’t know, tell him you want to kiss his ugly face, or something.” Liz crossed her arms and slumped back in her seat. “Tell him you want to complete the Emissary induction into the pack. Tell him you want to complete the mate bond.”

Stiles started. “Wait, he knew about that?”

“About what?”

“That we were mates.”

“Of course he knew, he had to instigate it.”

Oh. Wow. Stiles owed Deaton an apology, because apparently it really _should_  have been Derek telling him.

“You know,” Liz said softly, forcing Stiles out of his thoughts. “We’re all really jealous of him.”

“Why?”

She let out a small laugh. “Because of who he got. Because of you.”

“I’m not that great.”

“Stiles, when you walked into the room for the first time, you went straight to Derek to let him out. And the second you got the collar off him, he didn’t even have to _tell_  you to let the rest of us go. You just immediately turned to look at me, and told me not to kill anyone before you let me out. You knew nothing about me, you had no idea if I was going to maul your face off or not. You let _Kyle_  out when he was in full Kanima mode. You’re one of those people we all wished we could be.”

“Decent?” Stiles asked with a small laugh.

“Selfless.”

“Oh.”

“Stiles you’re an amazing person. So amazing, that Scott is terrified of losing you to another Alpha. If he could, I honestly think he would become a Beta to join Derek’s pack _just_  so he doesn’t lose you. You’re worth a lot more than you think, and not just because you can do weird magic.”

“My magic’s not weird.”

She made a face. “It’s a little weird.”

Stiles had to concede her point, because Sorcerer magic was hella weird.

“So, what? You think if I go to the loft and tell Derek I want to complete the mate bond and be his forever, he’ll turn human again?”

“Actually, yes.”

“I was joking,” he insisted.

“I wasn’t.” She shrugged. “Derek never shut up about you. Derek’s so gone for you he’s probably staying in wolf form on purpose, at this point, because you use him as a pillow.”

“I’d use him as a pillow in human form, too.”

“Does _he_  know that?”

Actually, now that Stiles thought of it, he didn’t think he’d ever admitted that he was in love with Derek _to_  Derek. And sure, he’d been hugging him and sleeping with him and all that, but Derek was a wolf right now. He probably figured Stiles was just cuddling with him because he was fluffy.

Which he was. So fluffy. Still _really_  thin, as they all were, but his fur looked _way_  better now that he was home and he was safe.

They all looked better. They had their own demons and issues to deal with, and more than once Stiles woke in the night to one of the others screaming, but they were healing. They were getting there. It would take time, and it was possible they wouldn’t ever truly be _fully_  okay, but they had each other, and they felt safe in Beacon Hills.

Alex still lived with the pack, but he made an effort to have dinner with Chris every now and then. He went to school, he was trying to live a normal life. He was behind, since he’d been with the Hunters for two years, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was just happy to be free.

As expected, Kyle was having the hardest time acclimating, but he tended to stick close to Derek most of the time, and he’d started spending a bit more time with Scott and Stiles outside the loft, so it was progress.

One step at a time, which was really all anyone could ask for.

Really, Derek was the one stalling. And Stiles hadn’t wanted to push, because he _still_  didn’t know all the horrible things that had been done to him, and he didn’t think he’d _ever_  want to know. But Liz was right. He needed to become human again, he needed to _deal_  with everything he’d been through instead of just pretending he was a wolf and forcing himself not to think about it.

Stiles had taken years to get over what had happened when he was possessed by the Nogitsune. No one was asking Derek to get better overnight, and Stiles would be there for him as long as he needed, but enough was enough.

And if _Liz_  thought it was enough, then it really _was_  enough.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to him.”

“Today?”

“Can you get everyone out of the loft?”

“Probably.” She stood and moved around the table, wrapping her arms around him from behind and rubbing her face against his cheek. Most of the born Weres were big on scenting, it was actually turning into a problem, considering Stiles technically belonged to two packs. “Come by in an hour and he’ll be all yours.”

“Okay.” Stiles frowned when she went to leave and turned after her. “Hey Liz? How did you get in here?”

She grinned over her shoulder. “I can’t tell you that, then you’ll block it off and where would I be?”

“Knocking on the front door, like a normal person.”

“Normal is so overrated.” The door slammed and he let out a sigh, shaking his head and going back to his food.

He sat at the kitchen table for a long while, eating his sandwich and thinking about how to talk to Derek. He didn’t exactly want to just walk in there and go, “Hey, so, I’ve been in love with you for years, and apparently you feel the same way, and also we’re mates, so let’s get started on that.”

Derek was a little distraught, and probably suffering from extensive PTSD. Even if they _were_  to start a relationship now, Stiles knew it would have to go extremely slowly. Molasses slow. Slower than their friendship had gone.

Sighing, he decided to just speak from the heart when he got there. Stiles was good with words, he’d figure it out when he showed up.

He washed his dishes and left the house, having spent enough time staring at the far wall thinking for an hour to have passed. He realized that he hated doing dishes, and wondered if there was a spell for that. Sorcery was a little specific in what could be done, so he doubted it. _Harry Potter seriously_ lied because they could do literally everything, from cleaning dishes, to healing wounds, to blowing up aunts.

Real magic had _way_ more limitations, _and_ a price depending on the spell. Sorcery was more... he wanted to say offensive. It had some defensive qualities too, for sure, but it wasn’t all ‘I can do anything with magic!’ the way _Harry Potter_ was.

He thought about all the different pieces of his magic the whole drive to Derek’s house, which led him to think about Deaton, which led to puppies, which led to thoughts of Derek as a baby wolf, and then he just got _way_  off topic. By the time he arrived at the loft, he’d actually almost forgotten what he was there for.

“Right,” Stiles realized, staring at the entrance to the building. “Turning Derek human again, _Beauty and the Beast_ style.”

Great, now he was going to have that song stuck in his head.

He climbed out of the Jeep and headed into the building. When he’d climbed the stairs and pulled open the loft door, Derek was waiting for him, looking excited. He jumped up on his back legs, front paws on Stiles’ shoulders, and started licking at his face.

“Dude, ser—come on! You would _not_  be doing that if you were a human, have some _decency_!” He shoved at Derek to get him to back off, then walked into the loft and closed the door. “The others gone?”

Derek nodded and then raced to the couch, jumping up onto it and then turning in a circle before lying down, watching Stiles expectantly. They’d been spending a lot of time watching the most recent season of various shows, since Derek being captured and all meant he’d missed out on some great TV.

And while Stiles would _love_ to watch more of _The Good Place_ with Derek, that wasn’t why he was there, so he just moved to the couch and sat down beside him, letting out a slow breath. Derek seemed to realize something unpleasant was coming because he went rigid and looked way less excited.

Stiles let out a small laugh, rubbing his hands together nervously. “I thought I’d know what to say when I got here, but apparently not. I mean, I practised a few things in my head in the kitchen earlier, but it’s not like I can remember any of it. Never sounds as good the second time.”

Derek shifted on the couch so that he was sitting up instead of lying down, watching Stiles attentively.

“I know that... you went through a lot in that place,” Stiles said quietly. “I know it can’t have been easy, and I know that being like you are is making it easier. I don’t really understand what happens to your mind when you’re a wolf, but Liz explains it as everything being... less. So I understand why you want to stay that way. But I’m worried about you.”

Derek huffed at that, clearly unimpressed, but Stiles didn’t let that deter him.

“Derek, why didn’t you ever tell me that Werewolves had mates?”

 _That_  got a reaction, because Derek froze and his eyes widened just a touch, and it looked like he’d stopped breathing.

“That’s kind of how I found you, you know. That and the whole Emissary thing, but I think... the mate thing is why I saw the threads.” Stiles reached out, as if he could see one right then, though he couldn’t. Because he’d found Derek, and he had no reason to follow any other threads. “Deaton said the Emissary magic would help me find clues to find you, but when I told him about the threads, he didn’t know what I was talking about. But I saw them. Not as often as I’d have liked, but when I knew to look for them, they were there. And they led me to you.”

Derek still hadn’t moved, like he was scared Stiles would remember he was there if he did.

“You know, it’s actually easier to tell you this while you’re a wolf,” Stiles said. “When you feel _less_. Because it’s less scary to admit how far gone I am for you. How much I love how. How _long_  I’ve loved you.” Stiles let out a small laugh. “Did you know that in senior year, when I had to go put my initials in the library, I actually ended up putting them right beside yours? I mean, sure there are other DH’s that went to that school, but as soon as I saw the initials, I knew they were yours. It was your handwriting and everything.” Stiles nodded slowly, licking his lips and looking down at his hands, playing with the skin around his left thumbnail. “When you left, I didn’t... I wasn’t sure how to handle that. I figured you had better things to do than hang around with a bunch of high schoolers trying to get their shit together. But then when we needed you, when the pack needed help, you came back. And I guess I thought maybe you came back for me. Maybe we could, I don’t know, _be_  something. But then you left again. And I figured maybe I had to stop pretending I meant anything to you.”

Derek let out a noise at that, but Stiles just looked at him and forced a smile.

“It really shouldn’t take us almost dying constantly to admit things, but somehow it does. I’ve loved you since before I started senior year, Derek. I just... waited.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I guess I figured I had time. But I almost didn’t. So I don’t want to waste any more of it.” He exhaled sharply. “I’m in love with you. And I know that it’s gonna be hard, and it’s gonna hurt, and we’re gonna struggle through this but... I don’t want to have to wait for something else to come along to try and kill one of us before admitting it, so, I love you. And it would be really great if I got to hear you say that to me too one day.”

Derek just kept staring at him, Stiles’ heart beginning to beat faster in his chest. Derek didn’t move, he just... sat there. Staring.

And now Stiles knew he’d gotten this all wrong. That everyone was wrong, and he’d just made a horrible mistake admitting this, and what was he _thinking_?! Because Derek was _Derek_ , and he could have _anyone_ , and why had he even _believed_  anyone when they said he loved him, he was so _stupid_!

“Okay,” Stiles forced out, clearing his throat. “Good talk. So, I’m gonna head home and we can... it’s fine. We’ll just...” He pretended to brush the words aside. “Under the rug. Like it never happened. So, yeah. I’ll see you later, then.” Stiles stood up and Derek did too, still staring at him, like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t. “Tell Liz I dropped by. Or I guess, you can’t, but she’ll know. I mean, she’ll smell me, right? Doesn’t matter.” He waved the words away, walking backwards to the door. “Bye Derek.”

He left the loft as fast as possible, sliding the door shut almost urgently. He turned and made it half a flight down before he heard the sound. It was like the sounds Derek had made at the café when he was getting kicked in the face. The kind of sound that meant he was in pain.

Stiles paused, turning to look back up at the loft door. The sound came again, but it sounded weirder this time. Distorted, and not quite right. He slowly walked back up, staring at the loft door, and when the next cry of pain came, it sounded distinctly human. It was lower, and gruffer, and Stiles could hear bones snapping and Derek crying out.

He clenched his eyes shut, pressing his forehead against the loft door, one hand coming up and resting on the cold metal. It was awful, and terrible, and he didn’t want to be there listening to it, but he knew that Derek knew he was there, and he knew it would be harder if Derek was alone, so he just stood there on the other side of the door, listening to him cry out while his bones snapped and his muscles tore until the only sound that remained was Derek’s gasping, panting breaths.

Stiles opened his eyes, forehead still pressed against the metal, and listened to Derek continue to breathe. There was another unidentifiable sound on the other side, then a loud bang, like Derek had tried to get to his feet and fallen over. Stiles’ hand itched to grab the handle and yank the door open, but there was a reason Derek hadn’t started shifting until _after_  Stiles had left. So he wasn’t going to open the door unless Derek told him he could.

There was the sound of something soft hitting the door on the other side, the panting closer, and Stiles realized Derek was pressed against it, down on the floor, like he didn’t have the energy to stand.

“Stiles.”

Stiles closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. Because it was rough, and worn, and _wrong_ , but it was Derek. It was his voice.

“Yeah, Derek. I’m here.”

There was silence for a long while. “I need time.”

“I know.” He let his hand slide off the door and pulled away from it. “I know you do. But when you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

“I know,” Derek said. “You always are.”

“Yeah.” Stiles let out a small laugh, sniffing and wiping at his nose, feeling his eyes water. “I guess I am, aren’t I?”

Stiles figured he wouldn’t be spending the night this time, but he still stayed on the other side of the door until the pack came back from whatever outing Liz dragged them to. He didn’t want Derek to be alone. So he waited with him, and when they finally came back, Stiles left.

* * *

Stiles was going to put up some kind of forcefield around his house. A forcefield, or an electric fence, or a God damn mountain ash barrier, because the number of Were constantly breaking into his house was getting a little out of hand.

He used to only have a few, like Scott and Derek and Malia. Now he had the entire new pack making themselves at home in his house whenever they so pleased, and today was _not_  a good day because Stiles had _literally_  just come home from a job—with a _great_  payout, thank you _very_  much, Cole—and been sleeping for all of _twenty minutes_ when he heard his window slide open.

Stiles had not joined two different packs to spend his entire life sleep deprived!

“I swear to God, Liz, if that’s you, I am going turn all your shampoo into hairdye and you’ll be the first blue panther in existence,” he muttered into his pillow.

“I’ll be sure to let her know that.”

Stiles sat up so fast his vision went black of a second and he whipped around to find Derek standing by the window, looking uncomfortable.

“Hey,” Stiles said, much too loudly.

“Hi.”

“Hi!” Stiles immediately winced. “Sorry. Hey.”

“You said that already,” Derek said, half-smiling.

It was kind of a shock for Stiles to see him. It had been almost two years since he’d _seen_  Derek, as a human anyway. Derek had left and all they’d done was text for the months leading up to his capture, so to have him standing in his bedroom as a human was... shocking.

Because while he still looked like Derek, he looked kind of terrible. His skin was sallow and he was still extremely thin, and it was obvious he’d tried to trim his beard and his hair but with all he’d been through he had weird bald patches in his beard and his hair was _way_  shorter than Stiles had ever seen it and God, he’d missed him so much and this was crazy and he was _here_.

“How are you?” Stiles didn’t know what else to ask, so it kind of just came out.

“Managing,” Derek said. “Probably a bad idea to have stayed a wolf as long as I did. The others are ahead in recovery.”

“Everyone recovers in their own time, it’s not a race,” Stiles said softly. “You gotta do what’s good for you.”

Derek nodded, looking around Stiles’ room. “It looks different,” he said.

Stiles pointed up. “Had to rebuild half the room.”

“Right. You sneezed.”

Stiles actually let out a laugh at that, because a year later, it was still the most ridiculous thing in the world. “I did. I sneezed.”

Derek started laughing as well, and he knew it was just the stress of the situation, but it felt so good to laugh, and Derek looked better than he had even five seconds ago.

“It’s good to see you, Derek,” Stiles said when they’d both calmed down. “Like this, I mean. I know you don’t talk much, but it’s nice having you actually in a form where you _can_  talk back.”

“Yeah.” Derek crossed his arms and looked down, shifting something on the ground with his foot. “It’s been a while. Even with the others. It’s been good catching up.”

“Yeah.” It had been almost a week since Derek had turned human again, and Stiles had been trying to give him space. He saw the others, and Derek texted him from Liz’s phone every now and then, but it was different than having him _here_. “Look Dere—”

“I love you, Stiles.”

Stiles cut himself off the second Derek blurted that out. He winced, like he hadn’t meant to say it like that, and let out a breath.

“I just... thought you should know. Since you... said some things.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Stiles whispered.

“Yeah.” Derek cleared his throat. “Sorry, you were sleeping. I shouldn’t have—old habits.” Derek turned, like he was about to go back out the window.

“You can stay,” Stiles insisted. “If you want. You don’t have to, but—”

“I want,” Derek said quickly, turning back to him. “Stiles, I _want_.”

Oh wow, that was an intense look. Like Derek was going to come tear his clothes off any second.

Stiles hoped he wouldn’t, this was his favourite sleep shirt.

He moved over in bed, pulling the blankets back. Derek kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt, then moved quickly to the bed before just... standing there. Stiles raised his eyebrows, and Derek clenched his fists.

“I have nightmares.”

“I know,” Stiles said. “I have some too, sometimes.”

“I think I might be broken,” Derek insisted.

“We’re both a little broken, Derek.” Stiles offered him a smile. “It’s why we’re gonna be able to help fix each other.”

Derek hesitated for a moment longer, then climbed into bed, pulling the blankets back over himself. Stiles rolled until he was pressed into Derek’s side, one arm thrown over his middle and head against his chest. For a few seconds, it was like Derek wasn’t sure where to put his hands.

“You’ve slept with people before, you know,” Stiles reminded him.

“Not anyone who mattered,” Derek admitted, and _that_  felt really nice to hear.

Derek did eventually wrap one arm around Stiles though, other hand moving to cover Stiles’ arm on his stomach.

“You’re gonna be okay, Derek,” Stiles promised. “Not now, not tomorrow, but eventually. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I have you.”

“Yeah, buddy. You do. Always.”

Stiles felt lips against his head and smiled, closing his eyes and getting comfortable against Derek.

The hand on his arm was sliding back and forth slowly, Derek running his fingers along his skin, like he was trying to remember what it felt like. When he paused, Stiles opened his eyes, tilting his head up.

They were at a weird angle, Stiles pretty much looking right up Derek’s nose, but he just laughed and rolled over. Derek went with him, moving on top of him, but not putting his weight down on him. He stared at Stiles’ lips, then licked his own.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Why are you even asking?”

“Because consent is really important to me.”

Stiles smiled at that. “Yeah, Derek. You can kiss me as much as you want. You never need to ask again.”

“I’ll still ask. Every time.”

Before Stiles could _insist_  he didn’t have to, Derek lowered himself a bit more and pressed his lips to Stiles’.

Stiles reached up and buried his hands in Derek’s hair, pulling him closer until Derek slowly lowered his full weight onto him, kissing him hard and holding him like he never wanted to let him go.

Derek’s tongue was in his mouth, and his beard was scratching at his skin, and their noses were smooshed together, and it was just perfect.

It was so fucking perfect.

When Derek finally pulled away, Stiles almost lost it because he was smiling. Derek was actually smiling, and it felt like so long since he’d seen him smile he could hardly handle it.

“You are so interesting,” Derek said, Stiles frowning a little.

“I’m not sure how to take that.”

Derek just turned his head and Stiles followed his gaze. Half the items in his room were floating off the ground.

Including his bed.

“Now the real challenge is getting everything back on the ground without waking up my dad,” Stiles said, eying his desk.

“Does this happen often?”

“Depends on the emotion,” Stiles said, turning to grin at Derek. “I just feel floaty when I’m with you, I guess.”

“Just do me a favour?” Derek kissed him lightly once more. “If you sneeze, aim somewhere else.”

“Asshole.” Stiles pulled him back down for a kiss.

Things could float for a little while longer.

* * *

It was hard. And painful. And full of doubts and fears.

Derek’s recovery from his year of hell took time. Stiles knew it would, and he was patient. Even if it was hard. Even when Derek pushed him away. Even when the pack started to splinter. Stiles was patient.

He kept them together. He helped them where he could. He got them the help they needed when he couldn’t. The two packs clashed, they got angry, they got frustrated. Scott and Derek butted heads. Stiles always had to stay neutral to avoid taking sides.

They fought, and clawed, and bit their way back to normalcy. They figured out a balance. They made it work.

Everyone healed, slowly. Derek had nightmares, but that was okay, because he woke up with Stiles beside him helping him count his fingers. Sometimes he went back to sleep. Sometimes he didn’t.

Stiles had nightmares, too. About how he didn’t reach Derek in time, and it was Derek’s turn to help him count fingers. Derek’s turn to insist Stiles had made it in time, that he was still there, that he would always be there.

They rebuilt the Hale house. The pack moved in. Derek kept the loft, because sometimes it was nice having a place apart for him and Stiles.

Stiles liked the loft better, anyway. It was familiar, and more comforting, somehow.

It took time, as all things did. All things that were worth it took time. They were hard, and they hurt, but eventually, it was all worth it.

It took a few years, but the nightmares faded. The packs got along. Everyone was safe.

Derek was back.

Stiles had his mate.

They were happy.

And that was all that really mattered.

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter (c) J.K. Rowling  
> Clue (c) Anthony E. Pratt  
> Beauty and the Beast (c) Disney  
> The Good Place (c) Michael Schur
> 
> Come chill with me on [Tumblr](https://isthatbloodonhisshirt.tumblr.com/).  
> (If it still exists by the time you read this lol)


End file.
